Out in the no longer so Wild West of America, a war is brewing. At the fringes of the great southwestern deserts, in the shadows of the high Sierra Nevada mountains, lies the great Central Valley of California, a primary battleground for this war — a war over water. The war has been brewing here for over a hundred years now, ever since we set out to conquer nature and remake California for our benefit.
Once a seemingly endless mosaic of semiarid grasslands, chaparral, and riparian and oak woodlands, with snowfed rivers (the largest being the Sacramento in the north and the San Joaquin in the south) winding their way through immense swamps and wetlands, this vast valley now sports a laser-leveled flat farmscape crisscrossed by dusty farm roads and busy highways punctuated with nuclei of urban sprawl. The swamps and wetlands have been drained away almost entirely — including what used to be largest body of fresh water west of the Mississippi, the phantom Tulare Lake — and most of the river systems diverted away from the heavily contested Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta into valley farms and suburbs all the way down into southern California.
A map from the Endangered Species Recovery Program (itself now extinct) showing the “natural” vegetation communities covering the Central Valley.Land use and land cover in the Central Valley in 2000. Map produced by the ESRP.
The transformation of the classic California hinterland into the state’s first engine of growth (i.e., well before Hollywood and Silicon Valley came to define California in the public imagination) and the nation’s fruit and vegetable basket is (or ought to be) a well known tale. Throughout the late 19th and the 20th centuries, the Central Valley drew people from all over the US and elsewhere — drawn by gold in the nearby mountains, oil beneath the swampy grasslands, and the rich soils for those fleeing from the dust bowl and the Great Depression — to play their part in what may be one of the largest transformations of the natural landscape our species has ever wrought on this planet. You may recognize the contours of this saga if you’ve read such works as John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath, Mark Reissner’s Cadillac Desert, or Mark Arax and Rick Wartzman’s The King of California, or seen it on screen in film/TV adaptations of some of these books or classics such as Chinatown and There Will Be Blood.
The gold in them thar hills ran out a while ago, and the oil and gas proved tough to extract from underneath the swamplands until recent technologies such as fracking now have 21st century prospectors eyeing the valley yet again, greedily. The rich soils that drew dust bowl refugees — Okies like Steinbeck’s immortal Joad family — have been depleted and repleted over and over again to the point of exhaustion, only to be resuscitated yet again through the injection of chemicals like some emergency room patient we refuse to let rest or die. One thread that has remained dominant (indeed has become even stronger) in this ongoing tale of human conquest of nature is what we have done to the valley’s water. California’s water wars — especially the ones waged between politically powerful constituencies such as the big industrial farms in the valley and the sprawling megacities to its south, with the Greens caught in between — fill the American news streams regularly, in a periodic rhythm following the region’s droughts and election cycles. It is here that the old frontier mentality of California’s Wild West past battles fiercely with growing movements for environmental responsibility and stewardship to define the state’s future.
Fresno’s iconic Water Tower, now a historic landmark, stands tall like in so many cities of the old west, signifying our (temporary) triumph over the desert.
The American West as a whole faces a water crisis — but one that is masked by massive irrigation projects that have kept the cities and farmlands going, spinning beyond the region’s inherent capacity to support such thirsty enterprises as farming (growing everything from rice to raisins in places that may only get a few inches of rain a year) and ever-sprawling megalopolises. A perfect storm of drought, urban growth, climate change, and the continued demands of agriculture have culminated in heightened competition among water users throughout this ‘Cadillac desert‘.
In response to some of the growing water stresses, many cities have taken steps to reduce and better manage urban water use. The Arizona city of Tucson has, for the past two decades, metered and priced water in a strong, tiered price structure that has seen water consumption drop significantly with attendant changes in landscape and biodiversity. Las Vegas, in neighboring arid Nevada, has been navigating the paradox of successfully reducing water use through metering and strongly tiered pricing, while risking loss of revenue to the water district.
In contrast, major Central Valley cities like Fresno and the state capitol Sacramento have fought a long, withering battle against water meters, with half the valley’s population paying no more than a small flat monthly fee for all the water they choose to use at home. For decades, Fresno was the biggest of these peculiar holdouts, stubbornly refusing to even measure its water use, let alone to make residents pay accordingly. Oddly, Clovis, its immediate neighbor and now part of a contiguous Fresno-Clovis Metro Area, has had meters installed for a century — but they don’t price the water aggressively enough to make a huge difference in water use. Fresno’s frontier mentality had people who lived in a semi-desert ecosystem (defined as one receiving between 10-16 inches / 250-500mm of rainfall annually) consuming more water than most American cities: over 300 gallons/1200 liters per person per day!
The conflict over water can be (has been) cast in terms of the classic frontier tropes, of rugged individualists whose rights to use god-given natural resources to shape their own homes are being usurped by big government. The urban water fights In the valley intensified two decades ago when the federal government decided that all users of federally controlled water sources (such as the valley’s many dam and canal projects) had to be metered. Fresno, which claims a good share of water from Millerton Lake on the San Joaquin river, began to comply in 1991 by starting to install meters. According to state law, all new homes built since 1992 must have meters installed.
The residents of Fresno rebelled, however, and voted into the city charter an amendment forbidding the city to read the meters! It took another decade and a half before metering came back into the picture with the state enacting a law specifically requiring Fresno to install meters in all homes and charge according to use. Even as Fresno marches steadily into the era of metered water, Sacramento lags behind (or leads from the rear as usual, wags may say), having pushed their own deadline back to 2025. Just a few weeks ago Fresno won the race, announcing that they have finally completed installation of water meters, ahead of schedule and under budget, bringing the city closer to the 21st century!
As meters were being installed and switched on in phases over the past several years, many Fresnans were already seeing changes in their water bills that now showed the actual amount of water consumed in the household, and the charge per gallon. How empowering, you may think, to know exactly how much of a scarce resource one is using — yet the new bills have many residents howling in protest, especially those with acres of deep lawn carpeting their sprawling suburban estates. You might protest loudly too, if slapped with a bill that asks you to pay as much in a single month as you are used to paying for a whole year of water use!
This profligate use of water (let me remind you: >300 gallons (1200 liters) per person per day!) allowed Fresnans to grow lush landscapes of lawns (and swimming pools), shaded by large trees to evoke ancestral homelands in wetter places. Never mind the depletion of the valley’s ground water even as the city continued to sprawl. As a recent study (of which I am the lead investigator) found, most residents of Fresno and Clovis are aware at some level that they live in a dry part of the world. Indeed the lack of heavy rainfall or snowfall may be part of the region’s suburban living draw! Yet, most residents, rich and poor, also want big lawns where children can play, and a variety of thirsty trees to shade the yards and homes during the valley’s hot summers.
When water is basically free, why not pour it out in fountain-sprinklers to grow lush lawns?
Our studies also found that irrigation — sprinklers in the lawns — is a key driver of urban plant and bird species diversity, with wetter yards tending to support more species. Before you start to call for more irrigation to increase urban biodiversity though, let me point out that the increase in species diversity comes from a number of non-native or exotic species that have been introduced, directly or indirectly, by humans! Reducing urban water use and planting more native-plant gardens may actually reduce the populations of some of these nonnative species and allow more room for native species to come back into the city.
The spatial distribution of plant and bird diversity illustrates a pattern found in many other cities: wealthier neighborhoods, with their well-maintained garden landscapes, tend to support more species than poorer neighborhoods. The striking social and income inequalities of Fresno — it is one of the poorest cities in the US, with one of the highest unemployment rates — are thus also reflected in people’s access to nature and biodiversity within their immediate urban environments. Upward mobility in this context, especially for immigrants from near and far who form the patchwork quilt of Fresno’s culture, often means aspiring for a big house with a well-watered landscape of lawns, trees and flowerbeds, and maybe a giraffe too!
A lush urban garden even has room for a giraffe!
While giraffes are relatively uncommon in Fresno’s yards, surveys and interviews with homeowners suggest a strong cultural inertia in how people conceive of and relate to their immediate landscapes. Most people, from across different income levels, show some awareness that they live in an arid region where water is a scarce resource, although few of them could tell you how much rainfall the region gets in a year, or even how many gallons of water they pour into their own yards every day. Even those who profess to a greater environmental consciousness continue to water relatively lush yards because there was no cost to profligate use. The onset of metering, and the first few bills, are certainly ringing some alarm bells however, and many residents are beginning to wonder about alternative ways that allow them to use their yards as aesthetically and culturally meaningful places while reducing the cost of water, and in the process conserving water resources.
So how do we square this circle then, between our desire for personal landscapes of remembered lushness, and the reality of depleting water resources in the desert we inhabit? We can begin by recognizing the inherent incompatibility, brought into sharp relief in the new water bills. Fresno, under duress from state and federal agencies, has taken the first big step towards better stewardship of its water supply. Residents can respond in two ways: complain about the suddenly high price of their expansive lawns; or rethink their home landscape and its place in local ecology, and transition to water-wise gardens that can provide most of the same aesthetic and recreational benefits as before, but less thirstily.
Fresno residents have an opportunity to find creative ways to ensure the long-term sustainability of their water supply while making their suburban habitats friendlier to nature. A low-water-use or water-wise garden need not be a gravel or sand bed with a few cacti poking through — it is possible to have beautiful gardens filled with native or desert-adapted flowers and trees that have evolved to thrive on little water, and even lawns made up of hardier drought-tolerant grasses. I lead a research group (part of a new national network of urbanresearch sites) that explores just these kinds of possibilities. A garden filled with plants that are not so thirsty is not only lighter on your wallet, it can also support greater biodiversity, provide health and other benefits from a better functioning ecosystem, and quench your soul with beauty.
A water-wise home garden planted by a eco-conscious resident well before the current brouhaha over water metering.
Fresno’s water conundrum is a microcosm of humanity’s frayed relationship with nature. The Earth is overcrowded compared to a century ago, but the bigger problem is that each one of us now consumes far more resources (or wants to) than a generation ago. Our very economic model is based on perpetual growth, which is at odds with a finite planet. Time for us to turn off our sprinklers and pause the growth bandwagon to repair our relationship with nature, to stop being mere consumers and become stewards of planet Earth.
Madhusudan Katti
Fresno, California USA
Note: All photos by Madhusudan Katti and Kaberi Kar Gupta
For a state surrounded by fresh water, Michigan, in the northern United States, certainly has had its share of water woes lately. Michigan’s water has always been our crowning glory; from our geography to our automobile license plates, the Great Lakes define us. As we hit the height of summer, you can hear the State’s “Pure Michigan” advertising campaign everywhere as it beckons visitors to the mitten-shaped state surrounded by five immense, freshwater lakes.
Michigan and its neighbors should return to the idea of Great Lakes water as a Commons to protect fresh water in the region.
Unfortunately, on most days, you can also find news about lead-poisoned water in Flint, Detroit’s water shut-offs, beach closings caused by contaminated water, or the threat of water exports. Add to this the decades-old issues of industrial and agricultural pollutants in the watershed, combined sewer overflows, and the emerging issues of stormwater assessments and water access for agriculture and landscape maintenance, and it becomes abundantly clear that water is a major issue in the Great Lakes State.
Lake Huron at Sunset. Photo: Rebecca Salminen Witt
The Great Lakes that surround Michigan’s peninsulas contain 20 percent of the fresh water surface on the planet. The lakes rest on the border of the United States and Canada, and the Great Lakes basin is home to about 34 million people who depend on these waters for drinking. The five Great Lakes were formed 10,000 years ago as the glacier that covered the northern U.S. receded and melted, leaving water-filled depressions in its wake. Given that these lakes hold six quadrillion gallons of water, it is easy to see how generations of people have viewed the great lakes as a resource that could never be compromised or exhausted. In fact, in the early part of the 20th century, the lakes were intentionally used to dispose of all kinds of waste. Lake Erie was probably the most seriously impacted by this practice. Shallower and smaller than the other lakes, Lake Erie became so polluted that one of its tributaries (the Cuyahoga River) famously caught fire in 1969. Rivers in Chicago, Buffalo, and Detroit burned as well, a situation chronicled by John Hartig in his book, Burning Rivers – Revival of the Four Urban-Industrial Rivers that Caught on Fire. In recent decades, a concerted effort has been made to clean up the Great Lakes, as well as the watersheds within the Great Lakes basin after the Clean Water Act of 1972 set the stage for continuous progress toward making sure that our fresh water resources are protected.
Conservation is essential, but questions of access have been grabbing the spotlight recently. Waukesha, Wisconsin was recently granted permission to siphon water from Lake Michigan for its residents, re-igniting a controversy that has been simmering since 1999, when the Canadian government revoked a permit that would have allowed millions of gallons of water from Lake Superior to be shipped to China. That protest still echoes in the voices of Michigan Citizens for Water Conservation, which is calling attention to a Nestle water-bottling plant in Stanwood, MI.
Another kind of access issue has risen in Detroit, Michigan where decades of inconsistent enforcement and unpaid bills led the water department to act on thousands of shut off-notices sent to residents during the summer of 2014. Water and sewerage costs in that city are also threatening the future of urban agriculture, long held up as one of the mechanisms of Detroit’s burgeoning comeback. In Flint, Michigan, residents discovered in late 2015 that their drinking water had been infused with lead after a series of governmental interventions. Since then, water testing across the country has revealed that the presence of lead in urban drinking water is a widespread problem, leading to questions of safety and environmental justice in access to water.
In June 2016, council members of the Great Lakes-St. Lawrence River Basin Water Resources Compact (“the Great Lake Compact”) voted to allow the city of Waukesha, Wisconsin (a city lying outside of the Great Lakes watershed), to purchase 8.2 million gallons of water per day from Oak Creek Wisconsin (a city located inside the Great Lakes watershed), which draws its water from Lake Michigan. Waukesha applied for the diversion because its water is currently drawn from a deep-water aquifer with unsafe levels of radium. Radium is a naturally occurring element common in ground water pumped from sandstone aquifers. As an aquifer is drained over time, water is pumped from deeper in the aquifer, increasing the amount of radium dissolved in the water. Lifetime exposure to elevated radium levels can result in an increased risk for cancer.
The Great Lakes Compact was formed in 2008 by the eight states and two Canadian provinces that border the Great lakes. The Compact regulates water conservation and uses in the Great Lakes Basin and provides that any diversion must be approved by a unanimous vote of the council members. The council is comprised of the governors of all eight member-states. Never before had the council voted to allow a diversion of water to a community outside of the Great Lakes Basin. The use was allowed in this case because the city of Waukesha is located in a county that includes property within the watershed, and the Council determined that Waukesha had exhausted its alternatives. Additionally, the city promised that 100 percent of the water it used would be treated and returned to the lake, convincing the Council that diversion was an acceptable option.
Opponents to Waukesha’s petition were not convinced that Waukesha had exhausted its options, noting that water can be treated to neutralize radium. They cited concerns that the treated water, which will be returned to Lake Huron via the Root River, could be contaminated by the chemicals used to treat it after use, harming both the Root River and Lake Michigan. They also argued that the diversion creates a dangerous precedent in a time when fresh water is becoming increasingly coveted around the world.
As the world’s population grows, fresh water will continue to grow in value. Great Lakes water has already had decades of diversion pressure. In fact, the Great Lakes Compact was created to regulate use of Great Lakes water after several American and Canadian companies sought to export lake water for sale as drinking water. In one instance, a Canadian company planned to sell 160 million gallons of Lake Superior water to a client in China. In another instance, a partnership between a Canadian and a U.S. company was formed to siphon five billion gallons of fresh water a year from a glacier-fed lake in Sitka, Alaska. This water would also have been shipped in bulk to China for drinking. In 1999, the Canadian government revoked both permits before the planned diversion. This narrow miss alerted the states and provinces surrounding the Great Lakes to a gap in regulatory strategies, leading to a discussion of whether Great Lakes water should be considered a Commons protected by law as a Public Trust that is the property of the public, which cannot be denied access to it. As proposed by Maude Barlow, National Chairperson of The Council of Canadians, in her paper “Our Great Lakes Commons: A People’s Plan to Protect the Great Lakes Forever”:
“A Great Lakes Basin Commons would reject the view that the primary function of the Great Lakes is to promote the interests of industry and the powerful and give them preferential access to the Lakes’ bounties. It would embrace the belief that the Great Lakes form an integrated ecosystem with resources that are to be equitably shared and carefully managed for the good of the whole community.”
The Great Lakes-St. Lawrence River Basin Water Resources Compact was signed into law by President George W. Bush in 2008, but like most policy initiatives, it includes a variety of exceptions and loopholes that prevent it from creating a Great Lakes Commons as Barlow proposes. One of these loopholes permits water from the Great Lakes from being labeled a “product,” allowing it to be bottled and then sold outside of the Great Lakes basin. This loophole makes it possible for Nestle Corporation to operate a bottling plant in Stanwood, MI, which bottles water from Lake Michigan aquifers in Western Michigan for sale as Ice Mountain drinking water.
Noting environmental issues that this practice was generating in the watershed, the conservation group, Michigan Citizens for Water Conservation, brought suit against the corporation in 2000 to stop a planned expansion of Nestle’s operations. This suit resulted in a 2009 settlement that permanently limits the amounts and rate of extraction of water by Nestle’s operation. However, questions about the public policy implication of allowing a private company to bottle and profit from the sale of a public resource have continued even after the settlement. The discussion reached a boiling point once again in late 2015 as the citizens of Flint, Michigan found themselves turning to the bottled water for sale in their local stores as an alternative to the lead-infused water that was flowing from their taps.
Flint residents have had a particularly painful 24-month lesson in the value of clean, safe drinking water. For years, Flint had received its water from the Detroit Water and Sewerage Department, sourced from Lake Huron. In April, 2014, Flint’s water source was switched to the Flint River in a cost-saving maneuver orchestrated by an Emergency Manager appointed by Michigan’s governor. Within two weeks, residents were complaining about water quality, noting skin rashes, as well as discoloration and poor taste of the water. For months thereafter, governmental officials—ranging from the Mayor’s office, to the Michigan Department of Environmental Quality to the federal Environmental Protection Agency—assured Flint’s citizens that their water was safe. (Check out the timeline for the Flint Water Crisis here.) Health concerns escalated, including an outbreak of Legionnaires Disease, skin rashes, and finally findings of escalated lead levels in blood tests of Flint children.
All of these problems were eventually traced to the switch to Flint River water and the subsequent decisions about how to prepare the water for public consumption. Like many inland rivers in northern urban areas, Flint River water is highly corrosive as a result of a high concentration of chloride ions present in water that has filtered through soil saturated with salt from winter road de-icing practices. Ignoring the chemistry of the water, the City of Flint made a cost-saving decision not to add a common anti-corrosive agent to it. As a result, the water corroded pipes containing lead or lead solder, which were a component of Flint’s water infrastructure. Lead leached from those pipes into drinking water, causing elevated blood lead levels and a variety of other illnesses. Meanwhile, Flint residents were still being charged for the lead-infused tap water, and they were also purchasing bottled water for use in their homes. When news of Flint’s poisoned water hit the media, the country rose to support Flint, donating millions of bottles of water for distribution. Many corporate citizens, including Nestle Corporation, joined the effort to provide safe drinking water to the citizens of Flint.
Photos of Flint water aid inevitably showed cases upon cases of bottled water. This led to more questions: Why was Nestle allowed to pump clean public water for free in order to bottle and sell it when residents were forced to pay for poisoned water? Why were Flint residents forced to keep paying for water they couldn’t use? How could this happen in a city located only 70 miles from Lake Huron, one of the largest sources of fresh water on the planet? Shouldn’t residents have the same right as Nestle to pump clean, safe drinking water for free?
In April 2014, residents of Detroit, Michigan found themselves asking that very same question as they experienced another kind of water crisis. At that time, the Detroit Water and Sewerage Department announced its intent to turn off water service to 140,000 Detroit residents for non-payment of water bills. News of the shut-offs spread worldwide and the conversation quickly turned to whether water was a service or a human right. Protests were organized, and the United Nations declared Detroit the site of an international humanitarian emergency. Eventually, the City of Detroit issued a moratorium on shut-offs and created new programs to aid customers with delinquent water bills. Still, for some residents, there simply is not enough aid and each spring more shut-offs are announced; 50,000 homes have been disconnected so far, and the question of whether water is a human right continues to be debated.
In an ironic twist of fate, many of these same Detroit residents are dealing with another kind of water problem: flood waters that invade their homes during heavy rains. Detroit has a combined sewer system, meaning that its sanitary sewers and its storm sewers combine on the way to Detroit’s water treatment facilities. This system is aging, and in many areas it is inadequate. The result is that in heavy rains, stormwater overwhelms the system, causing it to overflow. This sends water from the street, and water from residents’ sinks, showers, and toilets flooding into the streets, basements, and rivers of the city. Detroit has been ordered to eliminate these so-called combined sewer overflows (or CSOs) and it has begun to implement solutions. Still, many of the same residents who are getting their drinking water shut off are also forced to deal with unwanted stormwater whenever it storms.
Nature, in the form of green infrastructure, offers one solution to this problem. The Detroit Water and Sewerage Department has begun to install a variety of storm water reclamation treatments on vacant property in areas where CSOs are common. The Department is working with communities and non-profit groups like The Greening of Detroit to plant trees, build roadside bioswales, and create vacant lot plantings designed to work like giant sponges, all with the objective of absorbing or diverting stormwater before it reaches street-side storm sewers.
These treatments are useful as models for urban property owners who want to implement similar treatments on their own property. The desire for such beneficial landscaping, especially in commercial and industrial settings, is growing and should continue to escalate as a result of a stormwater surcharge that will soon be imposed on all property owners. The surcharge will be based on the ratio of impervious to pervious surface on a single piece of property. Where properties are covered by large buildings and acres of asphalt or concrete parking lots, these fees will be astronomical. Property owners will be induced to reduce the amount of runoff from the impervious surfaces on their property, and solutions such as parking lot bioswales, green roofs, and pervious pavers are all cost-saving opportunities just waiting to be planted.
A Detroit farm, situated in an underutilized park. Photo credit: The Greening of Detroit.
In fact, much of Detroit is in the process of being planted. Detroiters have realized that with abandonment comes space, and with space comes opportunity. By planting their vacant spaces with forests, prairies, bioswales, and farms, Detroiters are making their property more valuable and their lives better. But they are also realizing that all of these solutions require water, and in Detroit, the water they need to keep their plantings alive is safe and clean and available, but it isn’t free. In fact, it’s pretty expensive. Water bills for landscaping and agriculture can run to thousands of dollars a month, and even in the off-season, the charge for sewerage is substantial. At one of The Greening of Detroit’s farms, pictured above, a $20 monthly water usage fee garnered a $596 sewerage fee. For a community organization or a small-scale farmer, an expense like this can quickly put an opportunity out of reach. In a city where there are plenty of social issues to concern residents, one local farmer recently listed his water bill as his biggest worry.
This is a particularly poignant problem because urban agriculture has been hailed as a solution to so many urban ailments. In Detroit, urban farming has been lauded as the answer to a well-publicized food security problem, as well as a mechanism to connect community residents and engage them in the civic revitalization of their city. It has also been recognized as a contributor to Detroit’s economic revitalization, acting as a beacon that has attracted young chefs and visionary restaurateurs to make Detroit one of the country’s hottest food scenes. In Flint, the role of urban agriculture is even more important. In a city that is as distressed as Detroit ever was, where food security is still an issue, and where a generation of children will suffer from the effects of lead poisoning, urban agriculture has the potential to both feed and heal the population.
Students tend a Salsa Garden in Detroit. Photo credit: The Greening of Detroit
A healthy diet rich in vegetables and leafy greens provides iron, calcium, and vitamin C that can keep lead from absorbing into the body. Increasing the amount of vegetables and herbs such as garlic, cilantro, tomatoes, onions, and green peppers after lead poisoning can create a chelating effect, helping to remove lead that has already been absorbed. These same vegetables can help prevent lead from absorbing into the blood. In poor and food insecure cities, urban agriculture is often the best way to help the population heal itself with food. In Detroit, where home-based lead poisoning is common as a result of lead paint in older structures, so-called “Salsa Gardens” containing all of these vegetables are a staple in Detroit school gardens.
Fortunately, Flint, like Detroit, has a rich tradition of urban gardening and a wonderful group of gardening elders who can bring this knowledge to a new generation of people who need it more than ever before. Flint’s water is improving but its community has much healing to do. Urban agriculture can help this process—but water will continue to be a central issue. Gardens cannot be watered with lead-infused water, and, like Detroit’s farmers, Flint gardeners will have to find a way to water that does not cost too much.
Watering newly planted trees in Detroit. Photo credit: Rebecca Salminen Witt.
Even well established programs find themselves threatened by the escalating cost of water. The Greening of Detroit has planted nearly 100,000 trees in Detroit since 1989 and boasts a 92 percent survival rate. The long-range success of Detroit’s planting efforts, in large part, is due to an innovative watering protocol which puts Detroit students to work watering trees each summer. Without the extra water provided by Green Corps members, newly planted trees would suffer and likely die over time. Students who join the Green Corps travel the city filling buckets from neighborhood hydrants and watering thousands of trees each year by hand. This work is made possible by a broad partnership led by The Greening of Detroit, which includes funders, the Detroit Public Schools Office of School Nutrition, and the City of Detroit, which traditionally has allowed the Green Corps to tap the hydrants for water without charge. In 2016, a new regional water authority took effect and the Detroit Water and Sewerage Department was placed under new leadership. The watering arrangement that The Green Corps had operated under for 17 years was cancelled.
A new agreement is in the works, but it seems clear that the water that has been keeping Detroit’s trees alive will no longer be free. In the best case scenario, this new arrangement will add expense to the program, diverting funds which had been available for youth wages to pay the City for the water needed to water its trees. In the worst case scenario, this new expense will put the cost of the program, and therefore the ability to maintain the Detroit’s trees, out of reach, leading to the demise of both The Greening of Detroit’s youth employment and its tree planting programs.
Water is a critical component of nature in cities. Its role is complex, and increasingly expensive. Water is by turns absolutely necessary, an inalienable right as some argue, and also incredibly destructive when mismanaged either in preparation or in flow. As the planet grows hotter and more crowded, fresh water in cities is likely to be one of the issues that will determine our success as a species. Michigan’s struggles, surrounded as it is by fresh water, are a cautionary tale for the world. To bring this tale to a satisfactory conclusion, Michigan and its neighbors in the Great Lakes Basin should return to the idea of Great Lakes water as a Commons, owned by no one and available to all in the region who depend on it for survival. This is the only way to ensure that this essential resource remains available to us and to the generations to come.
Water is ubiquitous in Georgetown. There is a drain outside every house, flowing towards a canal. Old photos show the beauty of the waterways that comprised the original drainage system for the city.
Guyana sits on what was once known as the “wild coast” of South America. The area was a dangerous swamp that struck terror in the hearts of European adventurers seeking the fabled city of El Dorado. Even Sir Walter Raleigh is rumoured to have come here in search of gold. The name “Guiana” is said to come from an Amerindian word meaning “land of many waters”. Like many myths, it is charming but unsupported by evidence. Water is, however, a dominant motif of Guyana and certainly of Georgetown, the capital city. Water is also likely to end Georgetown’s existence before the 21st century comes to a close.
You cannot get away from water in Georgetown. There is a drain outside every house. It feeds into a trench that at some point flows into a canal. Old photos show the beauty of the waterways that comprised the original drainage system for the city. Georgetown is still crisscrossed by the canals, drains, and gutters that take storm-water from the roads and gardens and sends it to the sea. When the tide is in, the kokers (sluices) are closed. When the tide is out, the kokers are opened, and the water rushes out.
That is the theory. In reality, this superbly designed drainage system is blocked by selfish residents and greedy irresponsible businesses who dump garbage indiscriminately. Very quickly the bottles, tins, Styrofoam boxes, plastic bags, and other debris end up in the canals and drains. Blocked waterways cannot do their job. In 2005 Georgetown suffered one of the worst floods ever, resulting in millions of dollars of damage. There have been other less destructive but still costly floods. In 2014, as the floodwaters entered my house, I disconsolately watched the fish swimming in my study. The charm of their appearance was more than outweighed by the loss of books.
A section of the sea-side near the Marriot and Pegasus hotels. Photo: Melinda Janki
The lesson has not been learned. The ever-increasing mounds of plastic bottles dumped around the city continue to surge out to join the hundreds of millions of tons of plastic waste that are killing the oceans. The private sector, consumers, schools, churches, the Mayor and City Council mutter about garbage from time to time but continue to buy and dump the products that make up that same garbage—a sort of national cognitive dissonance.
In February 2017 the government introduced an environmental levy of $10 (US$5cents) on “every non-returnable unit of metal, plastic or glass container of any alcoholic or non-alcoholic beverage or water, whether imported, locally manufactured or produced in Guyana.” One year later, this levy had produced G$1.2Bn (US$6M). That means 120,000,000 non-returnable bottles or approximately 160 per person in Guyana’s small population of 750,000. Sadly, the levy appears to be more of a revenue-raising exercise for the government rather than a mechanism to restore and protect the environment. The money is not spent on ending environmentally damaging waste and there is still no environmental plan for Georgetown.
The drain outside my house is concrete and connects at right angles with the larger drain in the alleyway.
Just in front of my house. Photo: Melinda Janki
These drains are full of treasures—tadpoles, frogs, fishes, snails, and strange mossy plants. One of the great joys of the afternoon is to watch the little water snakes chasing and eating fish. We pick them up and admire them, before putting them back to finish their dinner. They coil around the wrist like blue and yellow braided bracelets. I have no idea what species these snakes are or even if my memory of the colours is accurate. The fish are still here, but I have not seen the snakes for several months now. One of the hardest things to do is to stop Georgetown folk from killing snakes.
The fish in my drain are small—a few centimetres—although there is the occasional excitement of a big tilapia about 15 centimetres in length.
There are 2 tiny fish between the fallen palm branches in the drain outside my house. Photo: Melinda Janki
You see the odd person fishing in the canals and sometimes catching enough for a meal. Small boys sometimes swim in the cleaner parts of the trenches. On rare occasions, an eel might appear briefly. I once grabbed one and found out for myself why “as slippery as an eel” is so apt. The abundance of freshwater, even when choked with filth, somehow still supports a range of wild birds—snail kites, kingfishers, limpkins, and various herons that eat the snails and fish as well as the other 200 or so bird species that have to drink it.
The waterways are also places of extraordinary beauty and a good place to see the glorious lotus lily. The flower is a rich pink, and the scent is heady and overpowering if you can get close enough without tumbling in. Trench edges are notoriously treacherous.
Lotus flowers. Photo: Melinda Janki
Although the lotus does impede drainage, it can help to create a healthy environment by removing pollution such as heavy metals. The lotus also has cultural and religious significance. It is sacred to Hindus and Buddhists. Eating on lotus leaves is an old custom that was brought to Guyana by indentured Indians. At religious festivals vegetarian curry is served on these leaves and eaten by hand. There is a knack to it that stops everything from sliding into your lap. Times change and now more and more people are using plastic plates and Styrofoam boxes instead of the biodegradable leaves. It is supposed to be more ‘developed.’ Inevitably the plastic and Styrofoam end up in the drains and trenches and block the waterways and outfalls. More than twenty years I wrote the law which says that, “Any person who throws down, abandons, drops or otherwise deposits or leaves anything in any manner whatsoever in circumstances as to cause, or contribute to, or tend to lead to litter shall be guilty of an offence.” All that is needed is a little political commitment and enforcement by the police and Environmental Protection Agency.
To the north, the beauty of Georgetown stops abruptly at a concrete wall. Behind it is the mighty Atlantic Ocean. If you want to see the sea, you do not walk down to a beach; you climb up the sea-wall and look out. Georgetown lies about 6 feet below sea-level. The second surprise is the colour of the water—not the sparkling blue as in the Caribbean – but a rich brown thanks to the silt and soil from three great rivers, Brazil’s Amazon, Venezuela’s Orinoco and Guyana’s largest river, the Essequibo.
The steps leading from the road up to the Atlantic Ocean. Photo: Melinda Janki
The foreshore changes over time. Erosion takes away the beach. Accretion dumps coastal sediment and re-creates land. I remember as a child picking up shells on a sandy beach beyond the sea-wall and watching the crabs scuttling into their holes. There were little pools that smelled of the sea and small rubbery flowers. The beach used to have low bushes that provided natural protection against the force of the waves.
All of these have gone. The sea-defences at this point are just a hideous concrete structure devoid of wildlife. Now and then the four-eyed fish come in with the waves and peep about at the edge of the concrete. These extraordinary creatures have eyes that are divided so they can see above the water and in the water at the same time.
The monument to the Demerara Rebellion of 1823. Photo: Melinda Janki
The seawall has always been a place for Georgetown residents to come, sit and “take the breeze”. The air is salty and smells of the sea. Children run around. Couples court. The city feels small and self-important when you contemplate the vast stretch of ocean. Somewhere out there is Africa. The ships bringing enslaved Africans would come in near here. It is a terrible thought that so much of this city’s wealth was first created by men and women in chains. Enslaved Africans were subjected to the most brutal, life-denying conditions—flogging, mutilation and hanging for trivial offences—and yet they continued to resist. Quamina Street in the heart of the city is named after one of the leaders of the Demerara Rebellion of 1823. And by the sea-wall is a monument to this same rebellion. A dignified figure stands tall on the plinth and gazes into the distance.
Is he seeing his African homeland? I hope so. Below is an enslaved African woman emerging from the stone. History, culture, and water run together all over Georgetown.
Increasingly nature is seen as a bit of an embarrassment, a sort of old-fashioned thing. Bright lights nearby have destroyed the black and silver splendour of the night. The womb-like shushing of the Atlantic waves can no longer be heard. On Sunday nights big speakers pump out music that sounds like a dead monotonous beat accompanied by demented screaming. It is an assault on the senses and a destruction of Georgetown’s seawall tradition.
It is possible to walk westwards along the seawall passing the lovely old wrought iron bandstand, and the relatively new Marriot Hotel, an architectural monstrosity built with public money and imported Chinese labour. The city’s western border is of course water. Having successfully, for now at least, defied the Atlantic Ocean, Georgetown gives the illusion of slipping into the Demerara River with the golden pink sunset. The land ends abruptly. A groyne takes some of the force of the waves coming in from the Atlantic. It is a dangerous spot and people have drowned here.
The northwest point of the city; somewhere here the Atlantic and the Demerara river meet. This small groyne is all that protects the land from the force of the ocean. Photo: Melinda Janki
The Demerara is a much smaller river than the Essequibo, only about a mile wide. This is the country’s main port, and ships come in here, laden with imported consumer goods, including plastic bottles of water from Trinidad, which possibly end up back in Trinidad via ocean currents.
The riverside waterfront is taken up with docks and wharves for the shipping industry until the organic chaos that is the Stabroek Market—fish, fresh fruit and vegetables, meat, spices, medicine even gold—there is something for everybody in Stabroek Market. But it is dirty. The river side of the market is full of the inevitable plastic bottles and garbage. There is absolutely no respect for the river as an ecosystem. The scarlet ibis have wisely fled further south. The other large market—Bourda—is further east near the canals along Church street and North road. It is a favourite spot for this heron to fish.
Part of Bourda market in the centre of town; the original design was for a grass promenade with a vista to St George’s Cathedral, once the tallest wooden building in the world. The area has been ruined by the overspill from the market and a brightly coloured plastic playground for children.The heron up close. Photo: Melinda Janki
A little further along is perhaps the most beautiful waterway of all—the bit that meanders through the zoo and Botanic Gardens. Manatees have lived in this system of ponds for as long as I can remember. There are also small spectacled caiman. It is incredible to think that this kind of wildlife is relatively free to roam in a city. The rest of the manatees are in the National Park, not far from the seawall.
Georgetown cannot escape the sea. 120 miles out, Esso Exploration and Petroleum Guyana Ltd, a Bahamas subsidiary of ExxonMobil has announced a massive oil discovery of over 3 billion barrels of oil. Along with two other companies Hess Exploration Guyana Ltd, a Cayman Islands company, and CNOOC Nexen Guyana Production Ltd, registered in Barbados, Esso has a licence to extract oil. The oil deal is hugely controversial not least because of the favourable terms to the oil companies and the doubts about what Guyana will get.
There is also concern about oil pollution and for the environment in general as well as a legal challenge and international concern Guyana’s oil will contribute to climate change and therefore to rising sea levels. For a country whose capital city is below sea-level this seems a self-defeating course of action, especially as Georgetown is particularly vulnerable. At one time Guyana had the highest suicide rate in the world. Now, it almost seems as if the capital city is getting ready to commit slow suicide by drowning. But it doesn’t have to end like that. Other cities are fighting back. New York and San Francisco are suing the oil companies for harm from climate change. Arnold Schwarzenegger even wants to go after them for murder.
Georgetown’s Mayor and City Council and the central government appear to have little or no understanding of climate change (and other threats to humanity) despite the second warning to humanity from thousands of scientists. Georgetown is running out of time and desperately needs new visionary leadership and citizens who love their capital city. Perhaps the time has come for young people to take over, to enforce their constitutional right to inter-generational equity, to demand a fossil fuel free economy, to insist on an immediate and total ban on plastic and Styrofoam, and to work together to restore the city’s waterways and infrastructure, not just to hold back the sea but to create a healthy environment with a zero-carbon footprint.
Like London, Georgetown could even become a national park city. As Martin Carter, Guyana’s best loved poet wrote, “I do not sleep to dream, but dream to change the world.”
Call and response as a means of dialogue: Physical interventions call out some aspect of the natural systems and infrastructure and, through community engagement activities, the people of Milwaukee respond to and activate the sites.
As an artist, having the opportunity to develop a project at the scale of a city has been a remarkable experience. WaterMarks has grown out of a three-year engagement with the city of Milwaukee. City government, academic institutions, and many nonprofits have been essential contributors to the development of this urban-scaled project. Focusing on water, the project has three important goals in mind: address environmental issues as a gateway to sustainable development; engage communities as active partners; help identify Milwaukee as a global water center.
Our approach has grown out of a decade of research as part of City as Living Laboratory: Sustainability Made Tangible through the Arts (CALL). We believe that artists have an essential, complementary role to play in creating communities of sustenance. A network approach is deployed to create change in Milwaukee; we envision a series of locations throughout the city activated by artists and community partners. Milwaukee’s Inner Harbor, the confluence of the city’s three rivers, is the starting point of a multi-layered, incremental project that can be implemented over time in neighborhoods throughout the city. The project elements—the Stack, Markers, Mobile Markers and App—visually establish the initial field of engagement for the city of Milwaukee in this Inner Harbor District.
We rely on the strategy of call and response as a means of engagement. Each physical intervention will call out some aspect of the natural systems and infrastructure, the history of water as it relates to the growth of the city, as well as the site’s potential to form part of an atlas of water for the city. Through continual community engagement activities, the people of Milwaukee will be invited to respond to and activate these sites.
Collaborative programming developed with the Haggerty Museum at Marquette University and a broader group of project partners will allow us to maintain an ongoing presence in the city and a strong connection with its residents. Working with artists using CALL’s methodology the Haggerty will generate public programing in partnership with the Milwaukee Metropolitan Sewerage District (MMSD) and city agencies, other academic institutions, the communities of Milwaukee, and the city’s many foundations and NGOs.
Initial concept drawing for WaterMarks. Image: Mary Miss Studio
Conceptual development
To help create a new public narrative around water, we start with the image of the concentric ripples created by water. This visualization is intended to imply the effect actions can have at the scale of the individual, the neighborhood, the region, or the city. The aim is to demarcate a project epicenter as a way to demonstrate initial project relationships, establish the overall visual language for each project element, and signify a commitment to partnering in the creation of this new public narrative around water.
Concept image for a “Water Atlas” of Milwaukee that would show a point by point mapping of water in the city. Image: Mary Miss Studio
The project concept has been to create an Atlas of Water for the city. The imagery is based on traditional atlas diagrams, where letters or numbers typically correspond to an adjacent “key” to learn more. Letters will be installed on the water treatment plant stack and vertical pole markers to act as “map pins” calling out specific aspects of water at various locations throughout the city. Each letter will correspond directly with a water-related location or theme to create an invitation to learn more about a water story at each location (i.e., L is for Lake or R is for Rain-Garden, etc.) The WaterMarks concept is to create a city-scaled 3D diagram of the multi-faceted manifestations of water throughout Milwaukee.
Illustration of implementation of the “Water Atlas” concept. Image: Mary Miss StudioIllustration of a “Marker” where a piece of the water story is accessed by a WaterMarks App: F is for Fountain where roof water from the adjacent building is being cleaned. Credit: Mary Miss Studio
The repurposed stack of the Jones Island Water Treatment plant becomes the beacon for WaterMarks. When clear, the stack is lit blue with the pattern of moving light reflected through water. On the evening before heavy rain, the lighting of the stack and its vapor turns red. This signal is to encourage the residents of Milwaukee to limit their use of water to help contain the overflows of contaminated water into Lake Michigan. As a result, the stack of the treatment plant becomes a rain forecast indicator encouraging the citizens of the city to become part of the green infrastructure of the city.
The first markers in the WaterMarks network will be placed in the Inner Harbor District, creating a visual field where the rivers meet the lake. This initial field of markers will show on a city scale where key topics related to water can be seen or experienced. Specific content related to each marker will be revealed virtually with the WaterMarks App. The App will provide a multi-media presentation of these topics as well as opportunities to participate in programmed activities. In addition to initiating the WaterMarks Atlas and engaging the community, this visual field activates the Inner Harbor and gives it a visual identity. Over time, WaterMarks will expand organically becoming larger and more diverse reflecting the ever-increasing depth and diversity of social and ecological connections.
Milwaukee background
In the late 90’s I was invited to come to Milwaukee to conceive a proposal for an extension of a riverfront walkway into the historic Third Ward District that would be a half mile long. The invitation was made in recognition of my work as lead designer for the South Cove in New York City, one of the first waterfront parks giving renewed access to the Hudson River. The project supporters felt I was a good choice to help reconnect the city with the Milwaukee River.
The stack of the water treatment plant is repurposed as a beacon to communicate rain events to the residents of the city. The stack and its vapor are lit blue if the weather is clear; it changes to red the night before a rain event to alert citizens to reduce their use of water; they become part of the ‘green infrastructure’ of the city. Credit: Mary Miss Studio
My goal for the riverfront walkway project was to allow people to get closer to the river as they walked the seam along the water’s edge, as well as help reveal the ecological connection between the city, the water that comes off it and the river.
The focus on the relationship between the city and the river was to be explored through the design of features such as wetlands to clean highway run off water in one of the few open spaces, an access point to view into the deep tunnel system, and various locations to look out over the water or get down close to it. Most of these elements designed for the Riverwalk were not implemented due to lack of funding, and because Milwaukee, like many other cities, had not yet begun efforts to recognize and re-establish a complex relationship to its water systems.
The entire three-mile long Milwaukee Riverwalk has, however, become a great amenity for the city, contributing to the transformation and revitalization of its inner core. Such an initiative demonstrates the power that a relatively modest investment can have to help reshape a city and positively engage residents. Many years after the completion of the Riverwalk, it received the Global Award for Excellence from the Urban Land Institute.
Returning to Milwaukee in 2015 for a panel at UWM’s School of Architecture, I met with a pair of civically engaged people who, having heard about my recent water-related projects in Indianapolis, asked if I would consider doing a project to help tell Milwaukee’s water story. This was a particularly appealing request given my prior experience in Milwaukee and my more recent interest in urban-scale, systemic approaches to promote nurturing communities.
A working advisory committee was formed to help guide the project through its initial concept development. It consisted of the director of the MMSD, the Commissioner of the Department of Public Works, and a group of interested citizens including academics, a developer, and cultural leaders. This group has continued to guide the project through its development.
New means of engagement CALL | City as Living Laboratory
Having spent several decades drawing people’s attention to the relationship between the built and natural environment and thinking about how to create a visceral engagement with place, I became concerned that a different or additional form of engagement was necessary to address the increasing environmental risks that were emerging. Rather than overwhelming or frightening people, would it be possible to get individuals/communities to take note of these issues and then feel empowered to address them, taking action in envisioning a future of sustenance?
In response to these concerns, in the mid-aughts, I developed the framework for CALL. The primary goal was to develop a complementary role for artists working alongside scientists, urban planners, or educators in making issues of sustainability accessible and actionable at the ground-level in communities, particularly on the streets. Artists’ ability to provide direct, visceral experience can be a compelling means of engagement with issues that otherwise seem too overwhelming, too much in the future, or too complex. Rather than depending on the work of a single artist, the vision is for multiple artists to be engaged throughout a city at many different scales.
When doing a project addressing a specific topic like water, I began to think beyond singular installations to whether a broader approach in a city could be considered: in Indianapolis we looked at a six-mile corridor of the White River and in a subsequent project generated in part by the first, at neighborhoods along five of the river’s tributaries.
CALL / BROADWAY: 1000 STEPS
In New York City over the past seven years, we have been working on defining the 18-mile length of Broadway as the “green corridor” of NYC where new ideas developed by artists can address issues as diverse as storm surge, gentrification and environmental equity, and the daylighting of a buried stream.
This is a systemic approach to create change: it has been interesting to think about how a landscape and community can be affected by multiple sites being activated. We have worked to create situations where it is possible to enlist a broad array of artists of different mediums working in tandem with scientists and other experts to engage communities and their residents with the issues that are most pressing. One-time exposure to problems is shown to be ineffective. By partnering with local community organizations, academic and cultural institutions, and city government, the goal is to create an ongoing engagement in place with these critical issues.
We have kept in mind the importance of the UN’s 17 Sustainable Development Goals. We recognize that these are irreducible and inextricably linked. When addressing water or air quality as a topic, health, equity, justice, climate, etc. are also being impacted. In addressing any single issue, the process is intended to maintain awareness and to support the overall resilience of the community and its transformation into sustainability in all areas.
Lessons learned
The process of review and reflection about past CALL projects considers multiple questions: physically what works and what does not, who needs to be involved and at what stage, what is the best means of engaging people with content, how much is too much information, what is the best process for getting the interest of communities, how does this happen over time, what are the sustainability goals and how are the multiple aspects interrelated? Below we describe key aspects of our previous experience that influence WaterMarks.
When deciding where to start in Milwaukee, we spent a great deal of time talking to people and exploring the city. We were very aware of the development that had happened in recent decades in the central parts of the city nearest the lake. We visited the neighborhoods outside the central core and saw the pressing and complex nature of the needs. We began to identify the organizations within these communities that could be possible future partners.
After these preliminary explorations, we finally decided to initiate the project in the Inner Harbor for several important reasons. It is here that the city’s three rivers flow together into Lake Michigan making it almost inevitable as a starting point. Also, the city’s main water treatment facility is located here with its 350-foot tall stack making it very visible.
The most pressing question was what criteria would be used to determine the sites for the project. Our experience with the National Science Foundation sponsored project in Indianapolis taught us that while it is positive to have sites in stressed or changing neighborhoods, by having these sites widely distributed throughout the city, it was very hard to gather the momentum to make this project visible at the urban scale. The project’s impact was limited by the dispersed presence and lack of density of installations and activities.
In the case of Indianapolis, we hoped that relationships could be developed with communities through our collaborating partners during the two years the installations were in place. But as the project progressed we realized our partners did not necessarily share our concerns. It became clear that engaging the communities directly with appropriate partners was the most important first step. The nature and goals of the partnerships had not been clearly enough defined beforehand limiting their effectiveness. Finally, the lack of ongoing programming to engage communities limited the medium and long-term impact of the project.
The vital interaction: installations, programming and community engagement
Our work in New York City has provided important experience in terms of programming: we have explored steps for defining the most important issues for communities, how artists can be directly engaged with those issues and the residents, and how this engagement can lead to collaborative proposals to address interests and concerns. We have found that introducing artists to other experts—scientists, historians, sociologists—and having them lead walks in a neighborhood is a good way to start conversations regarding the community and its concerns. It also allows artists, scientists, and other key actors to get acquainted with each other and find common points of interest. The walks are therefore a fundamental part of the process, and several take place in each neighborhood to facilitate these important relations and consider different issues.
Another critical step in the process is to have meetings and workshops with community members. A partners’ committee of people from the neighborhood meets to begin identifying relevant issues. They also help coordinate the logistics and generate a list of invitees for a larger, community-wide workshop. Word is put out by these advisors about the workshop and people are invited to sign up. Questions are proposed ahead of time, posted on the walls at the start of the gathering and responses elicited. A discussion that addresses those questions and the responses is led by the partners. Afterwards, the group breaks up into sections to discuss the issues that have surfaced as being most outstanding; an artist is present with each group.
Based on the discussion dynamics and the content/priorities that surface, the artists proceed to develop proposals. After the proposals are collected, a group from the workshop decides which proposal they would like to see developed. Sometimes it is only one; sometimes it is several. A plan is then developed to take on these proposals and find the appropriate funding for them.
Project partnerships
In Milwaukee, CALL has been applying the lessons learned to facilitate and promote the most effective collaboration between artists, the community, and other key actors. In the case of WaterMarks, after the initial Inner Harbor installations, the lighting of the stack and placement of field markers which establish the visual presence of the project in the city, the goal is to have other artists implement projects throughout the city.
The city-wide system approach has identified a group of organizations with shared concerns consisting of academic institutions, municipal agencies, organizations and non-profits, philanthropists, and foundations. There are many non-profit organizations throughout the city with similar interests, particularly addressing concerns around water, which we hope to have as WaterMark partners. They know their diverse communities well and have developed programs with goals that are closely aligned with this project.
Examples of a few are the Water Commons, the 16th Street Health Center, the United Community Center, and the Urban Ecology Center. We envision WaterMarks as a means to provide a unifying message around the many aspects of water these organizations address.
To have municipal partners in this initiative has been key. The Department of Public Works and MMSD have been important partners as WaterMarks has identified neighborhoods, introducing us to leaders across the city in diverse communities. They will be important players in future programming and locating future sites where green or other infrastructure is to be installed. We also look forward to working with the city’s Environmental Collaboration Office (ECO) as the project develops.
But to ensure the long-term success of the project requires a strong partnership with a local institution or organization with the capacity to help activate the project and to sustain it after CALL’s initial work is completed. It is important that this partner share our values and goals for community engagement. They also must have the capacity to design and implement programs and projects over time with an array of partners, including local artists. This partner must also have the resources to maintain a robust network with other institutions and organizations to collaboratively carry on the project and programming through all parts of the city.
To our great satisfaction, the Haggerty Museum at Marquette University has taken on this role and has served as a steadfast partner in the WaterMarks project. Over the past year, they have shared our aspirations while providing on-the-ground presence, project support, and resources that include a Marquette University Innovation Grant and space on the university’s floor in the Global Water Center.
We aspire to work with the many diverse communities of Milwaukee to create futures of sustenance. By recognizing their roles as “vessels” in their own communities, residents of the city begin to appreciate their responsibility for water as a resource that is vital to life and the general well-being across the region. Citizens will have new tools to understand that all property is lakefront property and that the health of Lake Michigan starts with each resident of Milwaukee.
Melbourne has long been at the forefront of sustainable stormwater management through WSUD. WSUD, in formal definition, is “the design of subdivisions, buildings and landscapes that enhances opportunities for at source conservation of water, rainfall detention and use, infiltration, and interception of pollutants in surface runoff from the block”.
Victoria, in south-eastern Australia, has long had a reputation as a garden state, even to the extent of describing it as such on car registration plates in the past. Victorian cities boast many parks, large and small, which are highly valued by their residents but threatened by drought and climate change. The design of these parks reflects the contemporary social values: some are formal with exotic plants, while others are wilder places with indigenous vegetation. All contribute to the nature of the city, and the wellbeing of its residents.
Recent changes to the Victorian Planning Provisions will ensure that Victoria continues to have beautiful green spaces for all to enjoy by enshrining in the planning scheme the need to manage stormwater sustainably including the provision of cooling, local habitat and amenity. Big-pipe solutions alone for stormwater drainage won’t meet the planning requirements anymore. Water Sensitive Urban Design (WSUD) has become mainstream!
Integrated water management is one way of increasing a city’s resilience to the effects of climate change and ensuring the ongoing survival of green spaces. Victoria has taken the bold step of enshrining integrated water management into its Victorian Planning Provisions for almost (some exclusions apply) all forms of urban development. Amendment VC154—Stormwater management was gazetted in October 2018. Two new clauses were added to the Victorian Planning Provisions, 19.03-3S and 53.18, and existing clauses changed to support them. The overall objective of the amendment was to manage stormwater “in an integrated way to mitigate the impacts of stormwater runoff on the environment, property and public safety, and to provide cooling, local habitat and amenity benefits”.
This is the first time that issues of thermal cooling, habitat diversity and amenity have been addressed in stormwater management. The objective of the new clause 19.03-3S is to “sustainably manage water supply, water resources, wastewater, drainage and stormwater through an integrated water management approach”. The clause specifies the strategies required to achieve integrated water management. Planning and co-ordination are critical, taking into consideration the catchment context and ensuring that land for water management is set aside at the subdivision design stage. Other strategies include the minimization of “drainage, water or wastewater infrastructure and operational costs”, “filtering of sediment and waste from stormwater prior to discharge from a site”, and the integration of water “into the landscape to facilitate cooling, local habitat improvements and provision of attractive and enjoyable spaces for the community to use”. In other words, this new planning provision is mandating WSUD in most new developments in Victoria that require a planning permit. How wonderful is that!
Other clauses of the Victorian Planning Provisions have also been changed to support integrated water management in Victoria. A Planning Advisory Note (No. 75:) provides useful background to Amendment VC154 leading to these changes. It describes Clause 19.03-3S as a policy change that embeds integrated water management objectives and strategies in urban land-use planning. Clause 19.03-3S is accompanied by new clause 53.18, and changes to existing clause 56.
New clause 53.18 Stormwater management in urban development specifies the exclusions, related predominantly to lower density, rural and conservation land. The wording of the objective for the clause is quite clear in its intent: To ensure that stormwater in urban development, including retention and reuse, is managed to mitigate the impacts of stormwater on the environment, property and public safety, and to provide cooling, local habitat and amenity benefits. A clear win for nature in the city.
Melbourne has long been at the forefront of sustainable stormwater management through WSUD. WSUD is an Australian term, “something of a catch-all term for environmentally sustainable water resource management in urban areas” (here, p. 1). It has been formally defined as “the design of subdivisions, buildings and landscapes that enhances opportunities for at source conservation of water, rainfall detention and use, infiltration, and interception of pollutants in surface runoff from the block” (here, p. 13). Its practice has developed progressively since the 1960s, in response to concern about the environmental impact of stormwater discharge on creeks, rivers and coastal waters, with its economic and social consequences, doubt that aging infrastructure could support further urban development, and recognition of the potential of stormwater as a resource. This action was led by the states. Western Australia introduced the first WSUD guidelines in 1994, building on a concept of water sensitive residential design proposed by David Hedgecock and Mike Mouritz. Within 5 years, best management practice environmental guidelines for stormwater management were released by Victoria and Queensland, and by the other states and territories by 2010. The reach of WSUD has now extended beyond the capital cities to outback Australia.
In 2002, the federal government, through the Urban Stormwater Initiative of the Living Cities Program, formally proposed WSUD as a strategy to achieve environmentally sustainable development, which is “to consider lifestyles, and their supporting infrastructure, that can endure indefinitely because they are neither depleting resources nor degrading environmental quality” (here, p. 1). To achieve this, WSUD integrates best management practices (BMPs), e.g. rainwater tanks, roof gardens, swales and buffer strips, gross pollutant traps, sedimentation basins, constructed wetlands, porous paving, bioretention and infiltration devices, to collect/retain/detain, treat and/or store stormwater in the landscape. The result is multifunctional landscapes that offer visual and recreational amenity, protect the water quality of local waterways, reduce run-off and peak flows to these waterways, and minimise impervious areas and development costs of drainage infrastructure. More recently, the remit of WSUD has extended to include aquifer storage and recovery, grey water reuse, dual reticulation of treated wastewater, sewer mining, xeriscaping, water conservation and urban heat island mitigation, more closely reflecting the original concept of Hedgecock and Mouritz in Western Australia. Thus, WSUD aspires to provide multiple water sources at allotment/local, neighbourhood and regional scales, using a mix of strategies, predominantly visible structures in the landscape, often in treatment trains (a sequence of BMPs). In Australia, this is described as green infrastructure.
To support clause 53.18, clauses 52, 55, 56, 58 and 73 have been changed, involving objectives and standards. Clause 56 was a gamechanger for stormwater management in new residential estates. Five years before, Sara Lloyd had highlighted the importance of best planning practices, integrated with BMPs, to achieve sustainable stormwater management. In 2002, Melbourne 2030 Planning for Sustainable Growth was published by the Victorian government. The plan proposed Neighbourhood Principles for residential subdivision that would promote livability. In response to the principle of environmentally friendly development, which included water conservation, local management of stormwater and wastewater treatment, Clause 56 was added to the Victorian Planning Provisions in 2006.
Victoria Park, Docklands, Melbourne. Grassed area is retention basin for stormwater generated onsite. It functions most of the time as green space for active and passive recreation in an area on the western edge of Melbourne’s CBD. Photo: M. DobbieConstructed wetland, The Waterways, Keysborough This constructed wetland treats stormwater generated onsite by an extensive residential subdivision. Water from the wetlands passes to Mordialloc Creek, which empties into Port Phillip Bay. Photo: M. Dobbie)
Since 2006, the suburban landscape of Melbourne has changed as residential development has included constructed wetlands to harvest and treat stormwater onsite, often with bioretention swales along roads and other WSUD devices. These met the relevant BMPs relating to retention of suspended solids, total phosphorus, nitrogen and litter. Amendment VC-154 expands the requirements of Clause 56 so that WSUD will provide urban cooling, habitat for local wildlife, and landscape amenity. We can expect more changes in Victorian urban landscapes, as WSUD greens our cities.
Within a 10-minute walk from just about any home in Watts, Los Angeles, you’ll find freeways, liquor stores, train tracks, and paved or weedy vacant lots. You’ll also find houses—lots of them, in this dense community of bright concrete streets and sidewalks. What you’re much less likely to find are shade-producing trees, plants, green open spaces, and parks.
If everyone could access a park within a 10-minute walk from home our public health and children’s success would also grow.
This was the neighborhood where Ronald Cartoon Antwine grew up, and where he first learned how to build parks. Ronald, known to his neighbors as “Cartoon,” lived across the street from a blighted vacant lot at 114th St. and Monitor Ave. his entire life. I first met him in 2009 when my organization, The Trust for Public Land, began partnering with the City to try to purchase that one-acre vacant lot for a new neighborhood park. What I didn’t know was that Cartoon had already been protesting yet more housing on that lot—circulating petitions, organizing neighbors to protest the development, and hosting informational meetings at a church down the street
I was walking the neighborhood, hanging door-flyers advertising our first park-design workshop, and Cartoon phoned me an hour after I had hung one on his door. At first, his attitude was abrupt. “Who is this, what are you doing in my neighborhood?” he asked.
Children playing in their new neighborhood park. Photos: Annie Bang
I explained that I worked for an organization that helps build parks in underserved communities like Watts and that we were hoping to build one on that corner lot. “A park, really? You want to build a park on that lot—not houses?” he replied enthusiastically. “OK! If anyone gives you any problems, you tell them you are working with Cartoon.”
In 2015, after six years of planning and development, Watts Serenity Park was the first park to open in the immediate neighborhood. The park, on a triangular vacant lot pushed up against railroad tracks, is close to two public housing projects and near the historic boundary between local gang territories. The winter we started community outreach, there were multiple gang-related homicides within a half mile of the site.
Building a new park from scratch without identified funding, a secured site, or a base of support can seem like magic—you start with nothing and somehow you end up with a park. You begin by identifying partners and one or two possible locations. Then you host community workshops, gather surveys, and ask people throughout the community what features they would like to see in a new park. This first and most essential step teases out local priorities and concerns and helps define what a new park might look like.
In Watts, we hosted the workshops at the historic Macedonia Baptist Church, which was close to the park and a comfortable gathering place for all community members. We came to the first meeting with large drawings of the vacant lot and boxes of markers and other supplies—as well as tamales and fried chicken.
We started by setting expectations on the process and timeline, explaining that it might be as much as five years before a park was constructed. First, we would need to convince the property owner—a townhome developer—to sell the land for a park, even though we didn’t have funding yet. Then we would need to distill community priorities into a concept park design. Finally, we would need to write a grant to secure funding from the very competitive California State Parks Statewide Park Development program. Once we had funding, design, and a permit, construction could begin.
Ronald Cartoon Antwine at the ribbon cutting for the Watts Serenity Park. Photo: Juan Carlos Chan
With expectations clear, we pulled out paper and markers, broke into small groups, and started to gather ideas for the new park. Subsequent meetings in the evening or on weekends would follow. Cartoon and his neighbors had plenty of ideas, which they diagramed on large sheets of paper. They debated which activities the park should support: soccer, basketball, skateboarding, toddler play on a new playground. Participants struggled to design a park that would welcome children and young people without becoming a focus of gang activity. The final concept we sent to State Parks included all the priorities established by the community.
The park opening in January 2015 was a victory for Cartoon and the neighbors who participated in those workshops and then waited patiently for their ideas to become reality. The park offered a perimeter walking path, spacious playground, skate area for older children, exercise equipment, and well-spaced sheltered picnic areas, so that multiple groups could picnic at the same time. Safety elements included security cameras, fencing along the rail corridor, and clear site lines to every area of the park. To reflect the personality of the neighborhood, the park incorporated art from community members. Sustainable elements included native and drought-tolerant plants, stormwater capture, and energy-efficient LED lighting. And, of course, we included lots and lots of green space.
Unfortunately, there are many other communities throughout Los Angeles County that remain underserved by parks. This is important because research show that parks are more than just nice-to-have amenities—they are important contributors to health and quality of life. Parks are the shared backyards of crowded city neighborhoods. They are where people get the exercise they need, kids go to romp and play after school, and neighbors forge relationships and get to know one another.
Parks are particularly important for the health of children. Summarizing information from the American Academy of Pediatrics, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and other sources, The National Environmental Education Foundation, or NEEF, recently outlined ways in which spending time in nature makes children healthier—and spending too much time inside makes them sicker. Kids today enjoy 25 percent less playtime and 50 percent less unstructured outdoor activity than their peers in recent decades. As a result, says NEEF, their health is suffering—more than 1 in 3 children in the U.S. are overweight or obese; 3,600 are diagnosed each year with type-2 diabetes; 7 million suffer from asthma; and countless others from attention-deficit disorders.
The view of the vacant lot from Cartoon’s house on Monitor Avenue. Photo: Tori Kjer
NEEF posits that the solution is obvious: get kids moving outside. The foundation concluded that time spent outdoors is predictive of higher levels of physical activity in children. In fact, children who spend more time outdoors are less likely to be overweight by up to 41 percent. Weight control and weight-related disease prevention aren’t the only benefits of outdoor exercise. Exposure to nature can reduce children’s stress levels by as much as 28 percent and a 20-minute walk in nature can help kids with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, or ADHD, concentrate better.
Because access to parks is essential for the health of communities and their residents, The Trust for Public Land is working to put a safe park, trail, garden, or natural area within a 10-minute walk of every American. And we are now partnering with the National Recreation and Park Association and the Urban Land Institute to establish this as a shared objective in cities nationwide—celebrating, recognizing, and highlighting cities, mayors, and other civic leaders that promote the 10-minute-walk-to-a park goal.
There are many ingredients to meeting this goal in communities such as Watts. They include adequate funding for park construction, operations, and maintenance, along with support and prioritized resources from policy makers. But perhaps the biggest key to successful park development is to ensure that communities—and dedicated neighbors like Cartoon—help plan their parks, ensuring that they really meet neighborhood needs.
Urban waste management is a crucial component of our constant interaction with the environment within and around our cities. Managing waste efficiently and sustainably is a unique challenge for us all that depends on development trends, socioeconomic composition, political situation, and a host of other factors.
This dependence is especially evident in China, where the past 30 years of rapid growth in size and population of cities has brought about mass lifestyle transitions as Chinese people migrate from rural to urban areas. The massive shifts to consumerist lifestyles by millions of Chinese have produced tremendous quantities of waste, while underdeveloped public waste management services have become severely stressed. On the surface, addressing China’s urban waste may seem like an increasingly daunting task. However, I believe that if sustainably managed and reclaimed, China’s urban waste stream will be a valuable resource and a solution to urban social justice issues, making Chinese cities healthier human and natural ecosystems.
Landfill in the outskirts of Beijing. Photo: Liwen Chen
China’s urban waste problem
China produces around 300 million tons of waste a year, the large majority of which comes from cities. Currently, Chinese urban waste management services generally collect unsorted municipal solid waste (MSW) to be disposed of in landfills or waste incinerators around the periphery of the city or further out into the countryside. Even if separate bins are available for recyclable and non-recyclable waste, government waste services do not have the capacity to operate a recycling system; the separated waste is bundled together into one truck all the same.
The composition and quantity of Chinese urban waste creates many problems for landfills and waste incineration. Chinese landfills are similar to other landfills around the world in that organic matter does not decompose properly in the landfill’s anaerobic conditions. This results in the release methane, a potent greenhouse gas. Since most of the solid urban waste stream consists of organic waste, the Chinese urban waste stream is an inefficient fuel for incineration. Even if proper management systems for composting, recycling, and further landfill waste reduction were put in place, a societal shift is still necessary for urban residents to change their consumption and waste disposal behaviors for waste management systems to be effective.
LEFT: these public waste receptacles that seem to suggest that the municipal government manages a recycling program. In fact, trash from bins such as these are usually dumped into one load and sent to landfills and/or waste incinerators. Photo: Judy Li RIGHT: mixed waste at a landfill in the outskirts of Beijing. Photo: Liwen Chen
The human face of China’s informal recycling sector
It is important to consider the human element of China’s urban waste system to understand how it affects the livability of Chinese cities. In addition to poor waste collection infrastructure, investment, and enforcement, the current waste system in China perpetuates social inequalities for rural-to-urban migrants who enter urban spaces with low socioeconomic statuses. Landfills and incubators are pushed to the outskirts of the city where poor migrants live, bringing along toxic fumes of incineration, disturbances from trucking of waste, and pollution of water, air, and soil. This leaves the wealthier inner city areas relatively clean, while the pollution impacts of their waste are exported to small towns and poor communities that are socially, politically, and economically marginalized from the city. Beijing Besieged by Waste, a documentary directed by Wang Jiuliang, vividly portrays this phenomenon.
A large number of migrants dominate urban recycling of any valuable materials, and make a living off of hand picking through rubbish bins outside buildings, along streets, etc. to collect paper, cardboard, plastic, metals, electronic waste, or anything of recyclable value. This informal recycling sector is extremely efficient. It is estimated that approximately 0.56-0.93% of the Chinese urban population, approximately 3.3-5.6 million people, are involved in the informal recycling sector, and are responsible for recycling about 17-38% by weight of Chinese municipal solid waste. The informal recycling sector’s contribution to urban waste management is significant even if the exact amount is unclear; it has never been formally documented. For example, local waste experts and activists say that in Beijing alone there are around 200,000 informal collectors working seven days a week, collecting around 30% by weight of the total MSW. In cities all over China, informal collectors take advantage of the local governments’ inability to provide adequate infrastructure, services, and education for a formal recycling system.
However, the migrants involved in this informal sector earn very little for the effort they spend collecting waste across the city. While urban recycling depends on their hard work, informal collectors are often older, still live in very poor conditions, and have jobs which become increasingly difficult as city areas expand. Informal recycling centers get shut-down by local governments and relocated farther and farther from the center of the growing city, increasing collectors’ commute costs and time, and reducing the city’s overall recycling rate. Experts in this field fear that as the informal sector faces greater challenges, urban recycling rates will decline, and recycling programs that governments establish without the informal sector will fail to be as efficient at reclaiming these valuable materials.
I took this picture with my phone one night while walking home from the subway. Informal collectors work day and night to collect valuable recyclable material for a living. Photo: Judy Li
Attempts to solve the problem
Chinese cities have tried different methods to address urban waste challenges. Several years ago, cities tried highly technical composting systems which were theoretically able to sort mixed waste mechanically and compost the biodegradable portion of the urban waste stream. Unfortunately, the system did not work as planned, and the toxic sludge output from the composting process was not only unusable, but also a public health hazard. Cities quickly abandoned the composting push, except for some small community-level composting pilot programs that have been successful in some areas.
More recently, there has been a large interest in waste incineration, fueled by the idea that burning waste will address landfill space limitation issues and the energy from incineration will generate revenue for the city. While some regard incineration as an acceptable practice in the U.S. and Europe, the unsorted Chinese urban waste stream, with high proportions of damp organic material, does not make for efficient incinerator fuel. Much more fuel is required to burn damp waste, increasing the costs and decreasing if not nullifying the profits from energy generation.
Waste incinerators in China are also poorly regulated, and the resulting toxic air pollution is an environmental and public health issue that affects nearby poor communities the most. The central government’s recent interest in using anaerobic digesters to decompose organic waste and capture the methane as a fuel source is potentially a positive shift in the right direction. There are now many large-scale anaerobic digester pilot projects in China.
Waste incinerator in the outskirts of Beijing. Photo credit: Liwen Chen
Paper, plastic, metal and organic wastes are valuable resources for urban production and consumption, and should be efficiently and justly collected, processed and fed back into the urban ecosystem to establish a more circular economy.
Below are a few key areas that I think are among the most important for decreasing the environmental footprint of China’s urban waste.
Food scraps can be fed to locally raised pigs. With pork being such a large and growing portion of the urban Chinese diet, local production of pork with locally produced food waste would decrease the environmental costs of pork production, feed production, and transportation.
Diverting organic waste from the landfill or incineration to instead support better managed composting and anaerobic digesters that can provide high quality, natural fertilizer to urban green spaces, and methane to be used as fuel source.
Government cooperation with the informal sector can yield a more efficient, regulated, and orderly urban recycling system that can help lift poor migrants out of poverty while bringing some revenue to the municipal government. Incorporation of the informal sector has been effective in other developing countries such as India and Mozambique.
Local business policies that encourage the reuse of recycled materials can decrease the raw resource consumption from producing products that urban residents consume. This would reduce the ecological footprint of urban lifestyles, which is critical for urban sustainability as more and more Chinese migrate to cities.
Public participation in reliable waste management data collection and disclosure when governments cannot provide this data themselves. Widely available data can help others diagnose the true extent of the urban waste issue. One idea is for urban residents to participate in data collection through smartphone applications that allow them to help pinpoint where nearby landfills, waste incinerators, anaerobic digesters, etc. are located. Such data could help inform future waste management priorities.
By adopting a more socially just, circular economy, and resource utilization approach towards urban waste management, Chinese cities can reduce their per capita environmental footprint, critical for reducing the environmental impacts of urbanization. Wiser resource utilization can help Chinese cities become more sustainable, and addressing environmental injustices of the current waste system is a step towards alleviating the social inequalities that influence livability of Chinese cities for all residents.
Of course, these changes will be difficult. Public policy and regulations are not enough. As is the case with most other issues in China and the developing world, there needs to be reliable and accessible data so we can begin to fully understand the scope of the problems and which solutions are effective. Governments must also enforce policies and create an efficient waste collection infrastructure. We also cannot forget that public education for China’s economically and socially diverse population is no easy task, yet will be crucial for proper waste separation at the source of disposal. As Chinese cities continue to grow rapidly and strive to achieve world-class status, investment in sustainable urban waste management systems and a broader movement towards a circular economy model will be necessary for more environmentally friendly, livable, and sustainable cities.
Inequality is on the rise! Recent statistics published by Oxfam on the economy of the 1 percent show that the richest 62 billionaires own as much wealth as the poorer half of the world’s population. The report goes on to show that the wealth of the poorest half of the world’s population has fallen by a trillion dollars since 2010, a drop of 38 percent. This decrease occurred against an increase in the global population of around 400 million people. Meanwhile, the wealth of the richest 62 individuals has increased by more than half a trillion dollars, to $1.76 trillion U.S. dollars. The report concludes that the fight against poverty cannot be won until the inequality crisis is tackled.
The dominance of interests and drive for quick profits is leading to degradation of existing infrastructure and lack of investment in renovation.
I would add that the inequality crisis cannot be successfully tackled unless we tackle all the manifestations of inequality, not simply wealth and income inequality. We cannot reduce urban Inequality unless we fix inequality in exposure and vulnerability to disaster risk and inequality in the distribution of disaster losses.
Chinatown section of Bangkok. Photo: 1000 Words, Shutterstock
How urban inequality shows itself
At the urban level, inequality takes different shapes and forms, including inequality in:
Wealth and income
Employment possibilities: legal vs. informal, safe vs. unsafe, healthy vs. hazardous, with or without health benefits, with or without child support, amongst others
Infrastructure: (availability and quality of water, availability and quality of wastewater networks, availability and quality of road networks and public transportation
Crime, law, and order: frequency of burglaries, frequency of violent crime, drug-related crime, frequency of crime against more vulnerable groups including women, children, the elderly, and the homeless
Basic education and health services: in particular access to and quality of: primary education, secondary education, of university and higher education, health services and hospitals
Housing: size and quality of housing, safety of housing, safety of land
Vulnerability to risk
Why is inequality on the rise? Why aren’t all forms of inequality being recognized?
Before deciding on what needs to be done, we need to understand what has recently happened such that inequality is increasing at such rates. In this regard, it is important to recognize the recent rise of the interests of financial capital and the rentier sector versus industrial capital and other forms of productive economic activity. It is this dominance of interests, and the drive for quick profits, that is often leading to a degradation of existing infrastructure and to a lack of sufficient investment in the renovation of infrastructure. This trend is also leading to the real estate sector, and unchecked urban expansion, being a main driver of economic growth in many countries. Notwithstanding the importance of all these sectors to GDP growth, these are now acting as disaster-risk drivers that must be promptly addressed in order to reduce inequality.
What is currently being done?
Governments are increasingly recognizing the rise in this inequality worldwide. Similarly, UN and international donor agencies are also trying to reduce this inequality. However, due to the prevailing compartmentalized approach of developmental work, efforts to reduce the above forms of inequality are not sufficiently recognizing the inequality in the exposure and vulnerability to natural hazards and climate change, and the inequality in the disaster losses arising from them.
Flooding—Bangkok. Photo: 1000 Words, Shutterstock
How does inequality in exposure and vulnerability to hazards manifest?
Inequality in exposure to and vulnerability to hazards manifests in different forms, including:
Exposure of jobs, infrastructure, housing, and basic services to natural hazards and climate change risks.
Vulnerability of jobs, infrastructure, housing, and basic services to natural hazards and climate change risks.
Distribution of disaster losses (in jobs, infrastructure, housing and basic services) caused by natural hazards and climate change.
Exposure, vulnerability, and distribution of disaster losses due to conflict.
How can urban inequality be reduced?
Urban inequality can only be reduced by first recognizing that a holistic approach is required. It is no longer acceptable to suppose that a compartmentalized approach can work. For example, efforts to improve the quality of health and education services should recognize the inequality in the vulnerability and exposure of school buildings. In addition, efforts to create more jobs in order to reduce unemployment and poverty must ensure that these jobs and livelihoods are resilient against natural hazards and climate change.
However, this can only be done once citizens recognize that they must scrutinize the implications of financial and economic policies that favour the real estate, rentier, and financial sectors at the expense of the job-rich pro-poor sectors, including industry and agriculture. For example, the following, but by no means exclusive, government decisions have direct implications on the exposure and vulnerability to natural hazards and potential losses from them:
Not providing safe, affordable land for housing inevitably implies that poorer families will build on unsafe land that is more vulnerable to natural hazards such as landslides, mudflows, and storm surges, among others. Failing to provide safe, affordable land for housing also leads to poorer families moving into the vicinity of hazardous polluting industries. In turn, this translates into a higher degree of direct and indirect losses.
Not investing in the retrofitting of infrastructure inevitably means that poorer neighborhoods, where infrastructure networks tend to be older and weaker, and where population concentration is higher, will be more exposed to weather related hazards, which are increasing in both frequency and severity due to climate change. It also implies that poorer neighborhoods will not receive the necessary prompt assistance by rescue and evacuation services. This trend should be contrasted against current estimates of an infrastructure gap reaching $57 trillion U.S. dollars, without accounting for sustainable development, which may lead to a larger gap.
Not investing in rehabilitating slum neighborhoods, and providing land titles, inevitably leads to housing with high vulnerability to natural hazards, thereby explaining the high degree of fatalities in the wake of hazardous events.
Not developing a national strategy for financing disaster risk management solutions often leads to the lack of availability of micro-finance and micro-insurance, thereby implying that the most vulnerable households, communities and livelihoods cannot invest in reducing risk or in insuring against disasters.
Favouring reducing inflation, at the expense of reducing unemployment, inevitably leads to more poverty, which—as a main disaster-risk driver—leads to poorer households living on unsafe lands, unable to invest in resilient housing, and unable to find decent jobs to lift them from poverty and allow them to invest in building resilience.
Favouring the rentier and real estate sector at the expense of the pro-poor, job rich, industrial, and agricultural sectors inevitably leads to higher unemployment, leaving millions unable to afford safe housing or to invest in building resilience.
Flooding—Rio de Janeiro. Photo: Donatas Dabravolskas, Shutterstock
It is these decisions that often lead to high degrees of inequality in terms of exposure, vulnerability, and disaster losses. Citizens and various stakeholders, including NGOs and various urban pressure groups, can address this inequality by 1) recognizing that it happens, 2) scrutinizing the decision-making process and the vested interests that lead to decisions being made, 3) tracing the decision-making process that leads to risk being constructed due to certain decisions, 4) tracing the transfer of new and existing risk between sectors, 5) forming alliances between NGOs, sectors, urban communities, and vulnerable stakeholders in order to lobby governments and big donors to recognize and address these issues. Only then will the aspirations of donor organizations such as the World Bank’s—We dream of a world without poverty—stop being a dream and become a reality!
If farmers can listen to nature, can the office workers, educators, and politicians do so too? In these difficult circumstances, it seems many of us are already practicing.
It’s afternoon in the middle of the work-week, and our local park is filled with people as if it were a holiday. There are little kids wildly chasing pigeons, and slightly bigger kids carefully stalking beady-eyed herons. There are teenagers racing on foot along the pond, and families sitting on rocks taking portraits. Watching from the sidelines, several calm-looking old men are drinking beer. Typical denizens of the park on most weekday afternoons, the old men seem unfazed by the extra commotion.
Of course, all stay a distance from each other.
We’re in the middle of a pandemic.
A mother and her children in Sumiyoshi Park, Osaka, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon (CC BY-SA)
During a time when our familiar ritual visits to restaurants, shopping malls, sporting events, and office cubicles are no longer a thing, people in our old neighborhood on the edge of Osaka seem to be taking leave of their home offices early, heading out into the nature of cities to play with their families and the birds.
It’s not terribly unique to this neighborhood of course. The choice to spend more time in nature is a phenomenon taking place in nearly every industrialized country where the economic and social shutdown is occurring, subject to varying logistical and governmental constraints.
When I talk of such news to friends in rural Japan—a group highly saturated with farmers and artists, mind you—most aren’t surprised. What is happening, they say, is that humans are remembering now, something that we had forgotten during our “pre-corona” days, sitting in traffic or at desks in climate-controlled cubicles.
We had forgotten that we are “ecological beings”.
As I watch the increasing number of people standing under trees, next to streams, or sitting on rocks watching herons, I can’t help but think that many of us are using this time to connect with a part of ourselves that we had been neglecting for a long time.
“Everyone has the ability to know nature, to listen to nature, and to follow nature.” This is a common refrain from Japanese natural farmer and author Kawaguchi Yoshikazu. “Listening to nature” is the basis of everything that happens at his farm. As a result, he and thousands of other like-minded farmers in both rural and urban areas across Japan accept and embrace weeds, bugs, and other parts of the natural ecosystem to degrees that would be unthinkable to most of us. For them however, it works.
If farmers can learn such ways from nature, what about the rest of us—can office workers, educators, and politicians listen and find answers in similar ways?
Some psychologists claim that all humans are gifted with “ecological perception” and that our ecological crisis has its roots in ignoring this gift. Perceptual psychologist Laura Sewall says this perception can be regained simply by practicing, for “if one chooses to listen, the landscape speaks.”
In these difficult circumstances, whether we are aware of it or not, it seems many of us are already practicing.
If we listened in this time of slowness, a time where bird songs triumph in place of what used to be morning rush hour, might we learn how to live and work more sustainably once this pandemic is over? If legislators, activists, and business leaders listened to the winds, as the skies turn deep blue and the bellows of smog-generation subside, would they hear the story of a world where we feed, house, and care for all living beings?
Or, if sitting in the park with our children and the birds is important now, will it suddenly become unimportant when we all go back to the office, and the skies are brown again, and the cars have out-shouted the birds, and things are back to ‘normal’?
It seems for too long, we’ve called this “normal”.
The fact is, we knew a long time ago how to accomplish social and environmental well-being. There exists today, no technological barrier to a world where both humans and our environment are healthy and thriving. There is no functional barrier to a world where the song of birds in Manhattan is louder than the rush of cars. There is no economic barrier to a world where the air in Beijing or Los Angeles or Oakland is clear and safe to breathe. At the root of these issues, there are only social barriers—decisions that you and I and our leaders make each day about what is important in our lives, and what we put our energies toward.
This might feel an overly simple, far-away thought in light of the heavy, tangible, social, economic, and political barriers we encounter each day.
But these barriers can only exist in a society whose social, economic, and political structures rest on foundations of abuse and extraction in the first place, structures which assume nature as a resource rather than a living, breathing, co-habitant with which our success as a species is inextricably intertwined.
Within our current framework, a majority have undoubtedly lost far more than others. All of us however—from corporate CEO to starvation wage worker—have equally lost a fundamental piece of what it means to be human on this Earth.
Now, at a time when the phrases “shelter in place” and “social distancing” have come into the public lexicon; when a chorus of fear and worry drones and glows from every smartphone, tablet and television; and we’re sitting in a park with kids and families and the old men and the birds, somehow, we feel a puzzling comfort we can’t remember feeling in this life.
Early cherry blossoms in Sumiyoshi Koen, Osaka, Japan. Photo: Patrick M. Lydon (CC BY-SA)
No one knows what the damage to human life will be when Covid subsides. Through all the hardship we are now encountering, one hopes, at least, that this pandemic will have slowed us down just enough to help us listen deeply, to care more, and perhaps to ask ourselves what, exactly, we are working in service to anyway.
Is it to technology, industry, progress, and gross domestic product? Or is it to pigeons and herons in the park, to blue skies, to our neighbors, and to living fully and truthfully this precious life?
With this time in relative isolation—a time during which I hope we can all find ways to reach nature—at least we have a chance to practice listening.
With luck, we might even figure out a few answers from what we hear.
Patrick Lydon
Osaka
This article originally appeared in the Summer 2020 issue of YES! Magazine.
Every month we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Marina Alberti, SeattleActivism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive.
Carmen Bouyer, ParisWe have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting.
Bibi Calderaro, New YorkAlthough I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
M’Lisa Colbert, MontrealI believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh?
Marcus Collier, DublinTo deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention.
Tim Collins, GlasgowGluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change.
Stuart Connop, London New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping?
Ben Davis, BrandonFamous art pieces are recognized currency that will always appreciate, and emblematic of reassuring continuity, where their familiarity through media proliferation alludes to static institutions and inert dominant beliefs. They beg to be disrupted and problematized.
Edith de Guzman, Los AngelesVan Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me.
Paul Downton, Melbourne The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes.
Chisai Fujita, KyotoMy profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Alysha Farrell, BrandonThe actions demand a scrutinizing look at a system that places less value on the flourishing of life (real sunflowers) than it does on the fossil-fueled fetishization of objects in an im/material world. More extreme provocations are called for in a time crumbling under a proliferation of global crises.
Sumetee Gajjar, Cape TownHumankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in.
Nancy Grimm, PhoenixDefacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism.
David Haley, Walney IslandHistory loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions.
Cecilia Herzog, Rio de JaneiroOn one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is now, is not reaching the public.
Cathel Hutchison, GlasgowIt is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
Pantea Karimi, San JoseTo bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness.
Christopher Kennedy, New YorkHere’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world.
Robin Lasser, San JoséI don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action.
Lucie Lederhendler, BrandonThese performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action.
Patrick Lydon, DaejeonI dig punk rock, and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Krystal Mack, BaltimoreWhen science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Claudia Misteli, BarcelonaArt has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
Nea Pakarinen, FreiburgThe message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Mitchell Pavao-Zuckerman, College ParkShock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
Cristian Pietrapiana, New YorkPersonally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not ‘yesterday’, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
Rob Pirani, New YorkBold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
Baixo Ribeiro, São PauloThe climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention.
Martin Rokitzki, FreiburgIt appears as if those in power are unwilling to redistribute power and wealth. In which case those among us, who are frustrated at the lack of transformational action will see sufficient cause to rebel. The risk is that it may not remain performative, which the recent acts by climate activists were.
Andrew Rudd, New YorkAgainst the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful.
Tanya Ruka, Te Whānganui-a-TaraThe time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us.
Peter Schoonmaker, BeirutSo far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four Reasons.
Ania Upstill, New YorkI don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem.
Stéphane Verlet-Bottéro, ParisAt the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction)
Domenico Vito, MilanSuch forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement.
David loves urban spaces and nature. He loves creativity and collaboration. He loves theatre and music. In his life and work he has practiced in all of these as, in various moments, a scientist, a climate change researcher, a land steward, an ecological practitioner, composer, a playwright, a musician, an actor, and a theatre director.
“How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?” asked the climate activist after throwing food on an iconic painting.
The “something” to which the activist referred was the Earth itself.
We have been talking about climate change for a long time now — the recent climate COP in Egypt was, what?, the 27th edition —but still progress, if you can call it that, is excruciatingly slow. We are running out of time.
Is science not enough to convince people to act? It seems not. One-hundred year storms every three years? Nope. 250,000 extra deaths and health costs of $US2-4B a year (an estimate from the WHO)? Not enough. Millions of climate-displaced people? Not even that.
So, what will spur action? Recently some climate activitists have taken to gluing themselves to or throwing food on famous paintings. There have been quite a few examples. Several activists were recently fined. (Apparentely no paintings have been seriously damaged yet.) “The adults aren’t listening”, say many young people, and it is hard to say they are wrong. But some new research in the United States suggests that people are indifferent to or slightly turned off by disruptive protests. Museums curators are upset, saying the the activist don’t know how fragile the works are, and museums are places of dialogue (which somehow seems to miss the point).
Are such shock tactics useful? Can they change opinion (in either direction)? Are they directed at the wrong targets? This is a prompt that asks us to reflect on the value of contentious and activist dialogue at intersection of art, science, ecology, activism, cities, and public opinion. A common theme among many of the responses included here — across the YESs, MAYBE, and NOs — is a deep exasperation at our failure to move climate action forward. One thread is that such activism aims at the wrong target. Another is that, well, it may be absurd, but at least it gets people talking about climate change. (Or does it?)
The prompt for the roundtable was “Are shock tactics such as defacing famous art useful?” For the record, this group, a mixture of artists, scientists, and practitioners (not a scientific sample!), votes like this:
Yes: 12
Maybe: 12
No: 8
I don’t know: 1
There is no consensus here, which is consistent with the hands-in-the-air exasperation most of us feel. Glue yourself to a van Gogh? Why not? Nothing else works.
Banner image: “Politicians discussing climate change”, Montreal, Canada (2015), by Isaac Cordal. It seems to capture the state of play fairly well.
Marina Alberti is Professor of Urban Design and Planning and Director of the Urban Ecology Research Lab at the University of Washington. Her research focuses on complexity, resilience, and eco-evolutionary dynamics in urban ecosystems.
Art as a Force that Changes the World: Why a New Imagination is Necessary to Draw Attention to the Climate Crisis
Activism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive.
My answer to your question: I don’t know!
What I know is that the image of two climate activists defacing a painting was hard to watch, it was a punch to my stomach, upsetting, and hard to understand. All that I believe in and all that I love put against each other. Activism can change the world only if its forms reflect its values. Activism wins when it is creative, not destructive. Symbolically the action did not make sense. There is something that the Earth and art have in common, they do not have a monetary value. Historically, art has been a form of protest. Why target art?
I say I do not know, rather than NO simply because I am trying to suspend my judgment and understand the action, beyond my emotional response. I do not condemn the form of protest per se. Each of us has a different perspective as to what form of protest we are willing to engage in and consider acceptable or effective, from civil disobedience to guerrilla warfare. But why against art? I know that the intention was not destructive, but the symbolic action was. Besides my emotional response, I have been asking myself whether the form of protest and its justification, the choice of targeting art reflects a cultural bias, a vision of what generates change that is of one community of the global north. How do people from other cultures relate to the image of climate change activists placing their survival to climate change against art? How would people of a future generation judge such action?
Climate change and protecting the Earth’s future are global problems. The urgency and scale of transformative action that addressing climate change will require are beyond what movements have ever experienced before. They call for a new global activism that connects places, cultures, and generations. Protest will need to engage a diversity of actors, expand its imagination, and speak a diversity of languages. Creating a global, pluralistic movement is not a trivial task. Protest is a multidimensional phenomenon that reflects the complex interplay between society, history, and culture. To be effective, the forms of activism that we choose to fight climate change as the solutions that we propose require a global, intercultural, and intergenerational perspective. They require imagining a future where humans and the planet cooperate. As a universal language and catalyst for transformation, art has the power to change the world and create a better future for both people and the planet.
We have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting.
MAYBE
It is clear that governments are not acting fast enough to tackle the climate crisis. Their responsibility is huge when it comes to implementing the systemic changes that can propel the transition to a solidarity-based and environmentally aware society cherishing all forms of life. Some actions we might expect now: unlocking massive funding to support climate action (just like in the case of a pandemic or economic crash), implementing dissuasive and persuasive taxation and accountability favouring life-sustaining practices, installing ambitious carbon taxes tightly combined with social redistribution measures, move indicators from the goal of eternal economical growth (in a finite world) to the goal of collective well-being expansion, and much more. We are ready for a paradigm shift. Do you see this happening in your country? Well here in France, in a very timid way. How to alert people and governments of our readiness to engage in a new society model?
In my view, it is not a surprise that climate activists would question places like museums. For many here in Europe, museums represent a form of archetypal repository of our culture, a form of paramount. Places that were important parts of our artistic heritage are preciously kept to inform our present. But one can ask: How are museums paving the way for a cultural transition to a desirable future? Based on which narratives and tangible actions? When targeting famous artworks all over Europe, this civil disobedience movement ― sometimes called “Splashtivism” ― is highlighting the level of schizophrenia displayed in such cultural institutions, mirroring our society as a whole. We have many solutions to solve the environmental and social challenges we are facing today, but we are not acting much. This is nonsense. Citizens are saying we are ready for change, we are desperate, look at what we are doing… absurd stuff — like spraying mashed potatoes on a painting. In a way, they are using the language of absurdity that is ruling our world.
To me, museums also exemplify a form of relationship to art as separated from practice, outside of life, encapsulated in objects neatly preserved in a white box. This setting reinforces the myth of separation that is currently destroying the Earth: to be separated from the natural world thanks to our human genius, to be an observer, an extractor of resources, rather than an active participant, responsible for preserving healthy life cycles along with other species. But as much as I wish for this myth of separation to fall, I also value the fact of preserving heritage objects for current and future generations to learn from. We need to ask ourselves how to put this heritage into motion to spur new cultural forms that respect life today. A key element for our discussion is that the “splashtivists” are making sure not to destroy the art pieces. That aspect is crucial to the debate. Some are even working with experts to make sure they do no damage at all, like the protestors who glued their hands to the Botticelli painting in Florence. The chosen artworks are all protected by glass, a care not to damage that not all of their social activists’ predecessors had. From the anti-authoritarian Situationist to the British suffragettes, other activists destroyed artworks altogether to push their ideas forward. It is not the case here, showing that heritage and environmental preservation should go hand in hand. Another important aspect of the debate is that climate activist groups acting in museums are also involved in many “classic” civil disobedience actions such as blocking polluting industrial sites and protesting at the headquarters of banks or oil companies. But such actions receive very little media attention, so new strategies to get the public gaze have been envisioned successfully: they turned their attention to the artists.
I would like to propose a hypothesis. What if the activists were finally bringing those targeted artworks to life?
Bringing forth the ‘revolutionary’ aspect those artworks had when they were made. They represented shockingly meaningful, subversive, beautiful, skillful reflections of the state of the nature of their time. Leonardo da Vinci, just like Nicolas Poussin, Monet, Manet, Van Gogh, and other targeted artists, were marvelling at nature in its effusion of trees, waters, flowers, fields, montagnes, night skies… Along with Goya, Vermeer, Raphaël, and others, they literally dedicated their lives to the exploration of nature, also in the form of human characters in their diversity of expressions, revealing the dynamics and beliefs of whole human societies. While many of those artists were tightly connected to the structures of power, one can feel their rebellious nature in how deeply they honoured the intricacies of life in its various shape-shifting ways. It feels that this spirit of passionate attentiveness and respect for nature is loudly called back by activists, as they symbolically activate those artworks in support of the thriving of life on earth today.
A question for each of us, let’s imagine Paris, New York, London, and other cities famous for their museums. You probably know a few of their museums’ names and some of the art pieces they protect. Let’s imagine that for each of those cities you would also know the name of the natural wonders that inhabit them and that their citizens eagerly protect as important parts of their culture. On your trip to Paris, you would not only visit the Louvre (free from stolen artefacts), but also the lush, restored banks of the Seine, the fertile agricultural fields of ‘le triangle de Gonesse’ and ‘plateau de Saclay’, the hectares of allotment gardens in Aubervilliers (Les Jardins des Vertus) and of Montreuil (Les Murs à pêches) and many more. Remarkable examples of historical, ecologically, and socially significant sites currently under threat. Let’s name them and visit them as we do with artworks in museums. What are the nature artworks you like the most around your home? Go visit them with the kids, with your tourist friends, take care of such places and they will be protected. They don’t have to be as showy as the Niagara Falls, simple ones, we find beauty in the small and the common, that’s the Van Gogh painting “Les Tournesols” (the Sunflowers) right there.
“It is not the language of painters but the language of nature which one should listen to, the feeling for the things themselves, for reality is more important than the feeling for pictures.” said Vincent Van Gogh.
Bibi Calderaro is a transdisciplinarian who weaves research, theories and practices from art, education, technology and ecology, blending diverse knowledge fields. Her work circulates internationally since 1995 aiming to build ecological solidarity within and beyond the human.
Although I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
Yes.
“…The truth is that no human endeavor can succeed on a planet beset by catastrophic climate change. None of our values, joys, or relationships can prosper on an overheated planet. There will be no “winners” in a business- as-usual scenario: Even wealthy elites are reliant on stable ecosystems, agriculture, and a functioning global civilization…”1
These are Margaret Klein Salamon’s words, the young psychologist behind the Climate Emergency Movement (CEM), one strategic thinker and funder backing the last wave of shock climate activism. Salamon’s research gives historical context to CEM’s logic. Their theory of change and strategizing are based on the fact that anthropogenic climate warming is not only not under control, but it is getting worse. CEM claims that Climate Change (CC) needs to be made the priority #1 for all governments and people alike and proposes a WWII-scale veering of all societal endeavors toward climate action―no more emissions and drawdown.2 Prioritizing this ‘emergency mode’ is what might halt CC in 10 years of full-on, dedicated work. Historically, this mode can also orient individuals to set aside their egos and willingness to thrive on their own and create a sense of community that works toward a shared goal―climate action.
I reached Salamon’s name by navigating a few key global newspapers where this last wave of shock activism made their front page for a while, after which inflation, the midterms, COP27, etc. took center stage in unconnected-loop-mode-as-usual. In another report from the same coverage, I read Aileen Getty― “The unfortunate truth is that our planet has no protective glass covering.”3 Despite my reticence to quote the daughter of a fossil fuel magnate, I admit that the resources and attention they draw are much needed and done quite “softly” — their language, far from radical, does not alienate.
So, should a piece of art ‘suffer’ to get the message across at a huge scale and fast pace? Activists were actually careful to glue themselves to art with glass protection, and suffering is one characteristic that has been extended to the more-than-human in the latest ontological turn, but artworks have not yet reached the set of suffering beings.4 One can also extrapolate without much imagination and predict that any piece of art along with whole collections will “suffer” a tremendous amount when the museums that house them and protect them for the enjoyment of the public5 become flooded by sea level rise, something that will occur in major coastal cities if governments do not make zero emissions and drawdown their #1 priority, now. Along with the museums and the artwork, those who are suffering CC are the public in general who, depending on where they live, are already feeling the immense repercussions of CC denial and greed.
My reflections on this inquiry as an artist, researcher, and educator for climate action are multiple, as they should be. Dr. Salamon is more convincing than most politicians, and activists are the only ones risking it all now so that life on the planet continues. Also, behaviors that engage ‘business as usual’ from all fronts of society are not just denialist, they are plain suicidal as individual response, but genocidal and biocidal―so, criminal and violent―on the part of governments. Violence has that complexity about it―never plain, straightforward, or immediate. It is layered, reciprocal, and, although I do not advocate for violence, if shock is what puts the violence of Climate Change on the front page for a while, then I’d rather have shock.
1 https://margaretkleinsalamon.medium.com/leading-the-public-into-emergency-mode-b96740475b8f
2 This means no more fossil fuel licenses and the capture of carbon at an expedited rate.
3 Aileen Getty; https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/oct/22/just-stop-oil-van-gogh-national-gallery-aileen-getty
4 On the contrary and historically it is artists who have suffered and also struggled to make art popular. The “artworld” instead is still an elitist space for the circulation of art and in this sense supportive of the “status quo.”
5 I am here quoting some museum directors in the same coverage of this news.
I believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh?
Maybe. It might be helpful. Similar acts of protest like road-blocking pipeline installations and inhabiting vacant buildings until the city accepts your communities’ bid over the condo developer’s bid are all forms of protest that have been proven to work. The difference is that those were attached to real carefully strategized goals ― there was a plan that made taking that risk a useful contribution and a small step for the wider cause. In the case of this painting and other incidents like this, I worry they risk setting the cause back by trivializing it. I had trouble formulating my thoughts on this one, so I hashed this out with my family over the recent holiday. I believe we are in a state of emergency, and we live in a world where capturing audiences and increasingly short attention spans seem to be the only way to gain some momentum around an issue. So, why not glue yourself to a Van Gogh? As my mother said, it’s not his fault his paintings are so famous and expensive. He died penniless and in relative obscurity like a lot of great artists do. My sister said that at the end of the day it’s a performative act, and not meant to be ‘real action’, you’re preaching to the choir basically. My father’s take was one where he thinks good energy is being wasted. He’d like to see all those youth just run for office and go where they need to go to get the job done. Imagine if you had Senators and Bureaucrats who cared enough about climate change, they’d glue themselves to paintings, in our governments!? I think seeing things like this makes me more sad than thrilled. Climate change got more attention, but it’s a debased kind of attention. It’s disingenuous, fleeting, and ego-ridden. I have no doubt that the passion and the urgency are real in the person committing these acts, but I disagree with the outlet. Do something real to solve the problem you are worried about. In the process of the doing and getting your hands dirty ― whether you’re tree planting, working to indict companies skipping out on environmental assessments, teaching kids in a classroom, or painting the beautiful landscapes we all stand to lose ― you’ll find more solace, bravery, and good energy to do more, in actually working towards the change you want to see. As my mother said, don’t resort to destruction because something is being destroyed. Grow, create, regenerate, or re-build something, among many other more helpful options. So, I don’t agree that gluing yourself to a Van Gogh is helpful, but I think acts of protest that may obstruct or destroy may be useful tactics, but it depends on the context. Lastly, on the level of personal growth for these kids who did the gluing, I think this experience probably helped them grow, if not the cause directly. It takes guts to subvert standing orders and normalized accepted behaviour (even if we are just talking about museum etiquette), if that’s channeled somewhere meaningful, it could lead to something really inspiring one day!
Marcus is a sustainability scientist and his research covers a wide range of human-environment interconnectivity, environmental risk and resilience, transdisciplinary methodologies and novel ecosystems.
To deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention.
Yes.
In the early 1980’s, when I was an undergrad, a huge environmental issue on our campus was ‘acid rain’. Acid rain is brought about by industrial emissions of nitrogen oxides (NOX) and sulphur dioxide (SO2) carried and deposited across borders. This often results in large-scale fish die-off in lakes far from where the emissions originated. The resulting international transboundary emissions agreements have largely taken acid rain off the agenda but, in my university at the time, no such agreements were in place and some students got very concerned. To raise concern, several prominent students took to wearing motorcycle helmets all day in order to indicate the deadly threat of acid rain. Even though acid rainfall does not cause injury to human heads like a motorcycle crash would, a subtle parallel was being drawn. But it was too subtle. The wearing of motorcycle helmets by non-bikers was viewed by other students as indicative of misinformed ‘activists’ ― just a bit silly. Acid rain was, and still is, a serious environmental issue, and indicative of a transboundary issue that can impact regions disproportionately. Making a dramatic visual statement seemed to be a good idea, but if it is too subtle then it is doomed to failure and even ridicule. Cynicism can be a hard barrier to break.
At the same time in the early 1980’s we did not yet use the phrase ‘climate change’, rather we spoke of ‘global warming’ ― a phrase that was not at all accepted or understood, and for many (especially in cold, rainy Ireland) it was something to look forward to, perhaps! Some of us tried to draw attention to the potential future perils of global warming. However, we were mindful of the unfortunate helmet wearers, so we tried desperately to find a new way to make our protests: something symbolic, something dramatic. But all we could manage were some loud marches with a lot of placard waving, and then some lecture picketing and distribution of information pamphlets. Predictable results: no media coverage, no policymakers meeting us to discuss our concerns, no debates in government, no protest songs, nothing. This was very frustrating, and for many it still is. However, as desperate as we were to make our point, we would never, in a million years, have considered damaging art to make our protest. Art is a sacred cow, an untouchable, something that is universally appreciated and respected, even if not understood. To deliberately damage art as a form of protest seems, as with the helmet wearers, misinformed and doomed to backfire as the cynicism takes hold. But here we are, talking about it now and even though there is still a lot of cynicism, dramatic acts grab attention. So, this overtly extreme form of protest has achieved its purpose in drawing public and media attention to the climate issue, as well as driving more people to visit galleries, but… where to go from here?
The Collins + Goto Studio is known for long-term projects that involve socially engaged environmental art-led research and practices; with additional focus on empathic relationships with more-than-human others. Methods include deep mapping and deep dialogue.
Gluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change.
Earth is a living web of aquatic, terrestrial, and atmospheric entities that have fundamental intrinsic value, benefitting all forms of life. Our world is a living thing yet it has no moral standing. It has resource value and ecosystem service value.
Paintings in a museum have intrinsic cultural value, and as a result, are of moral concern, the benefits of such objects are limited to human interest. Historic paintings also have significant exchange value.
Intrinsic means essential, inherent, or a fundamental, constitutional value of a thing; good in and of itself, valuable because of its existence, in its own right.
Moral standing is the innate ability to recognize ethical duty and extend moral concern and consideration to others. It is a more-than-human, interspecies condition of care.
Ethical duty suggests responsibility and care for people, places, and things that have value.
In the case of the Just Stop Oil activism in art galleries, historic paintings are instrumentalized as the focal point of resistance and media coverage. The glue-teams protest a global culture of late-capital modernity that has instrumentalized the carbon forms found in nature as the foundation of social, economic, and political expansion. The difference between our two examples is an assumed ethical duty and a degree of harm caused by instrumentalization. Gluing one’s head or hand to the frame, or the glass of a painting while tossing tomato soup about is not the same as ignoring the environmental impact of anthropogenic, carbon-based climate change. The first and second waves of northern industrializing countries would go on to become colonizing states. They are responsible for legacy pollutants and have not as yet made significant reductions in current pollutants or taken responsibility for impacts that will primarily impact countries (often former colonies) in the global south.
I have been thinking about how we got this way. I was eight years old in the summer of 1964 when my mom and dad announced, we were going to the World’s Fair in New York City. I have a vivid memory of that experience. I recently reminded myself that the grand displays were sponsored by Ford, Dupont, General Electric, General Motors, IBM, ITT-Bell Systems, Sinclair Oil, Westinghouse, the National Space Agency, and the Department of Defence (NASA/DOD). The whole family was besotted by this peek into the future. Imagine a man in a jet suit, plans to explore the moon and the deep oceans, and telephones where you could see the people talking to you. The World’s Fair opened our minds to computers and space travel and helped us see into the past where the oil came from that made all things possible. Various displays claimed we would monitor the earth from space and control climate from the poles of the earth. The sea would reveal new resources. Even at age eight, I was besotted with modern ideals and the potential production of new things, the promise of an exciting and ever-better future.
Over the past centuries, the narrative of modern development has moved across the world like a juggernaut with the viral idea that a fair share of continuous improvement to the quality of life could be had by any nation that opened itself to capitalist democracy. Resource development would lead to new industries, technologies, and global development. It has been the most powerful narrative in world history. It divides the world into winners and losers, those that have and those that have not.
Today we live in the information age, at a time of massive human-initiated changes to the planet, yet somehow here we are writing about outrageous gestures, that whet the appetite for TikTok activism that seek emotional and moral entanglement. Maybe we are all at fault, unwilling to criticize gestures that initiate no imaginative response while fulfilling the erotic desire for individual publicity. There is no absolution to be found in the enactment of this spectacle or in our response to it. So, I agree with the Judge in the Hague, who reduced the sentences of the Vermeer-glue- team so as not to discourage future protests. Head to the glass until enlightenment 2.0 emerges and life as we know it begins to change. Head to the glass.
————————————-
Otherwise: Head to glass, and hand to frame a potted history. According to Reuters, (Oct 27), two Just Stop Oil (JSO) protesters entered the Mauritshuis museum in the Hague, Netherlands with the intent to 1) glue a head to a painting, 2) glue a hand to the wall, 3) toss some tomato soup on each other. The target was a 1665 work by Johannes Vermeer. Since then (Oct 30) in Berlin protesters glued themselves to a railing surrounding a dinosaur in a Berlin Natural History Museum. And on July 22nd in Italy members of ‘Ultima Generazione’ (Last Generation) glued their hands to Sandro Botticelli’s Primavera at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence Italy. On the 5th of July, five JSO protesters glued themselves to the frame of a copy of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Last Supper’ at London’s Royal Academy. The painting depicts Jesus’ announcement of the betrayal of Judas, which the protesters equated with the betrayal of future generations by today’s global leaders. On the 4th of July, JSO protesters glued their hands to the frame of John Constable’s ‘The Hay Wain’ (1821) at the National Gallery, London. They also covered the painting with their own dystopian interpretation. In a Guardian article (July 1, 2022) JSO was involved in glue protests in relation to a Turner painting in Manchester, a Vincent van Gogh Painting at the Courtald Gallery in London, and a Horatio McCulloch work in Glasgow, and various other sites and works.
Dr Stuart Connop is an Associate Professor at the University of East London's Sustainability Research Institute specialising in biomimicry/ecomimicry in urban green infrastructure design.
New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping?
Maybe. Following the latest defacing of artwork (the black oily substance thrown on the Klimt masterpiece) the fact that we are discussing this here, means that, on some level, the protagonists have succeeded in their goal. New fossil fuel licencing is now front-page news and, it is possible that some people that were not aware of the scale of this new licencing are now more informed. But does this mean it is helping? I am not so sure … I understand and share the frustration but, whilst the underlying message is meant as a metaphor for how we are treating the planet, for me, the overriding message comes across as one of irreverence and criminality, turning many people against climate activists at a time when their voices need to be heard the most. This is, even more, the case with protests in the UK recently where Just Stop Oil campaigners have caused significant disruption to transport infrastructure. These divisive methods create more negative headlines (criminal damage, individuals missing funerals, etc.) than they do raise a positive message. This provides fuel for anti-environmentalism messaging in mainstream, and social, media. As a parent of two young children, I try to teach them to treat others (including the planet) as they would want to be treated themselves. To me, defacing art is the opposite of this ethos. It teaches that anything is dispensable as a means to an end. Indeed, following the latest art protest, the activists have even argued that the devastating effects that climate change will have, outweighs any potential damage to the paintings. This short-term ‘means-to-an-end’ argument is the very justification for why the majority of us continue to live way beyond the planetary means, and why only a small proportion of the global population lives in harmony with the planet.
Science and science communicators have done an excellent job in raising awareness of the challenges of climate change, but the planet is trapped in a stalemate between increased global awareness of the imperative to address climate change and a public majority divided between feelings of powerlessness and a lack of willingness to sacrifice their quality of life in order to drive the necessary global change. Politicians are stuck in the middle of this inertia, trapped between making long-term strategic decisions for the good of the planet and making decisions for the good of their short-term popularity in the ballot box. To change policies like fossil fuel licencing, there needs to be a shift in political will, and it seems to me that the only way to do this is through unifying public opinion around solutions rather than dividing it with shock-tactic awareness-raising approaches.
Scientists have a key role to play in this: evaluating and providing evidence for emerging solutions that empower people to make changes that balance social justice and environmental sustainability. Whilst both the COVID-19 pandemic and the crisis in Ukraine have been linked to significant tragedy, some of the indirect impacts arising from these challenges have done more for driving individual positive climate change mitigation behaviour than any shock tactic activism has managed. On my climate change adaptation project, for example, COVID-19 meant that air travel miles were slashed, but the project was still delivered successfully. Restricting travel, turning down thermostats (for those who can), and reducing consumerism, can all be positive steps to reducing one’s ecological footprint. Scientists need to be evidencing and communicating the impact of such behaviour changes in terms of global carbon emissions, to quantify the effects that both policy changes and individual behaviour changes can have, how this can be done in a way that minimises negative impacts on individuals, and the power of this change if done by a critical mass of individuals.
Is there still a need for environmental activism to highlight bad political decisions? Absolutely, science can only take us so far and there need to be mechanisms alongside scientific communication pathways that raise awareness of the impact of short-termism in political decisions. But perhaps this would be more helpful if done in a way that commands similar headlines, but is more solution orientated, is creative and respectful, sets the right example, and doesn’t impact institutions such as museums that, in my experience, are already advocates for education and awareness raising in relation to global challenges like climate change.
Edith de Guzman is a researcher-practitioner, educator, consultant, artist, and avid backpacker working with diverse audiences on climate change solutions in urban areas. Edith co-founded and directs the Los Angeles Urban Cooling Collaborative, a multi-disciplinary partnership of academics and practitioners working to reduce public health impacts of extreme heat.
Van Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me.
Is it helpful? If helpful means influencing the conversation, then YES.
When I first started hearing about the various actions by climate activists targeting works of art, I was one part aghast and two parts perplexed. I was dismissive at first, wondering how disrespecting one thing could possibly result in respecting another. Then I heard an interview with Phoebe Plummer, one of the activists, and was floored by the articulate and focused responses. I began talking with some friends, colleagues, and family about these actions and quickly realized that while opinions varied greatly, reactions across the board were palpably strong. These activists were succeeding in breaking through the noise.
As an artist, it hurts me to see works of art targeted. But as a researcher-practitioner focused on applied research that has a tangible impact, I can’t help but appreciate that these activists are willing to do something drastic and stick their necks out to change the conversation ― trying to secure a livable future that is potentially even bigger than the preservation of art and culture.
The value we instill on art is notoriously arbitrary, and most of the time I find it to be either grossly undervalued or outrageously inflated — no happy medium to be found! Van Gogh is said to have sold only one painting in his lifetime, yet his works are among the most prized in the world. Contrast that with our inability to ascribe value to a livable planet, and all of a sudden what these climate activists are doing begins to make more sense, at least to me. The value we place on art is subjective, but the value we should be willing and able to ascribe to a livable future for all critters and habitats should strive to be unshakably objective. So why is it that we are witnesses to the value of art being inflated but can’t seem to agree that a sustainable future should be worth more than anything else? We are all in this planetary boat together and it behooves us to agree that despite our differences, we need that boat to stay afloat — if only so we can still enjoy what art and culture have to offer.
Writer, architect, urban evolutionary, founding convener of Urban Ecology Australia and a recognised ‘ecocity pioneer’. Paul has championed ecological cities for years but has become disenchanted with how such a beautiful concept can be perverted and misinterpreted – ‘Neom' anyone? Paul is nevertheless working on an artistic/publishing project with the working title ‘The Wild Cities’ coming soon to a crowd-funding site near you!
The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes.
Yes. The activist shock tactic of being glued to the frame of a Van Gogh is worth it and will eventually help change public opinion regarding action on climate change.
On one hand, you have the climate of an entire planet worsening daily and threatening the existence of billions of people, and on the other hand, as a means of drawing attention to this existential threat, you have some works of art being ritually threatened with damage which, at its worst, would mean the loss of monetary value of an object which is nominally worth millions of dollars to its owner but which brought little or no financial reward to the original artist.
The shock value of the glue and food/paint splatter has been enormous because we’ve evolved into a society that values artistic objects more than living landscapes. When a living landscape is threatened with destruction it is dismissed as the cost of doing business but when an art object is agreed to be financially valuable the idea of damaging it attracts international headlines. The activists effectively pretended to damage some works of art? How dare they!
The asymmetry of the ‘balance’ in that equation is utterly offensive. One side is about maintaining the conditions for all of us to be able to live on this planet, the other side is about protecting bank accounts.
It is remarkable that some works of art have phenomenal monetary value, but that value is negotiable and disputable. It is less a recognition of the value of the artists’ work and more to do with the commodification of creative ‘product’. In World War 2, the Nazis recognised the monetary value of the works of imagination they stole from Jewish owners, but regarded the living, breathing Jewish population of real people as worth less than nothing. Thus, Jews were dispensable, the art they owned was not.
The bizarre perversity in the way humans think about value is made worse by consumerist capitalism and its transactional approach to social relations. That perversity is at the heart of the glue-food-paint-splatter phenomenon, and it is why such activism is useful ― and inevitable.
The same forces are at play in the (ongoing) history of slavery in which human beings are reduced to commodities to be made into slaves whilst their lives as living, loving people are dismissed as irrelevant. The only reason to pay attention to a slave’s well-being was (is) to keep them alive and functional as a kind of exotic machine. Slaves needed to take extreme action to change the status quo, e.g., the 1831 Jamaica Slave Rebellion was brutally crushed but two years later the Slavery Abolition Act was passed (https://libcom.org/article/1831-jamaica-slave-rebellion). The slaves are complaining? How dare they!
The same forces were (are) at work in the movement for women’s liberation. Edwardian women were valued for what they could do to maintain the lives, status, and power of men provided they accepted the roles assigned to them by male society. When Emily Davison was killed trying to pin a scarf on the king’s horse in the middle of a major race (https://www.theguardian.com/society/2013/may/26/emily-davison-suffragette-death-derby-1913), her death was seen as tragic but her actions as indefensible. How dare she!
When civil society fails to deliver, and the legal system makes it ever harder to engage in peaceful demonstrations (as it is now in the UK, USA, and Australia), people can become remarkably uncivil and resort to violence. Or they can throw some paint to make a point. I’m with the art activists.
Chisai is an art writer, journalist, and researcher of contemporary art. In the 2000s, she started her career and managed independent web art magazine, living in Tokyo. After moving to Kyoto in 2012, she researches contemporary art in Asian countries. She wants to connect and research it deeply in the 2020s. If you are interested in Asia, please ask her!
My profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Maybe, No. In order to answer this, I need for you to take a short trip with me, to East Asia. You see, before COVID-19, I would travel from my home in Kyoto to see exhibitions and meet artists in China, Hong Kong, Taiwan (please pay attention to distinguish these areas!), Korea, etc. once a month. There are two reasons. First, the cost of the Shinkansen (High-speed railway in Japan) from my home Kyoto to metropolitan Tokyo was similar to a flight from Japan to anywhere in East Asia. Second, artworks and artists in Japan are less dynamic and interesting to me than my neighboring countries.
In October, I went to Taiwan after the reopening of the borders. It was to see a friend’s exhibition in Kaohsiung, Taiwan. Apart from the exhibition, this friend drove his own car and we went to the “Mattauw Art Festival” in Tainan. This is a ‘remote’ arts festival, he said would feel similar to Japan’s “Echigo Tsumari Arts Festival”.
In Japan, Echigo Tsumari started in 2000 and began a trend of giant, sprawling rural arts festivals. Today there are more than 100 such ‘remote’ art events in Japan. The large festivals draw more than half a million visitors a year. Now multiply those two figures by a lot of gasoline, because when we travel to art festivals in the mountains, or near the sea, or into some other part of the countryside we need cars to get to most of these artworks. When you finally get there, most of the works at these art festivals have no deep meaning. Although they seem to fit in nature, you could say that ‘nature’ is greater than any of the artworks in these art events. That’s why we remember the beauty of nature more than artworks.
So we finally arrived at the “Mattauw Art Festival“ in Taiwan. I thought, yes, it resembles Japanese rural art events, but he said “I am sorry” when we arrived. Why? He might have thought that artworks were more attractive than impressive nature and apologized to me. But in fact, I think he was apologizing to nature. Perhaps he was sorry that he used much gasoline and polluted the air in order to enjoy such a remote festival?
Me too. After all, I got here on a too-cheap flight, in a too-much-oil-burning airplane. And all I can think is: do I take part in environmental pollution? Are not these artworks environmental pollution? Are we really satisfied to see such works? Are these works helping to change us, or which is more important environmental or satisfaction? Do we need to go see artworks by car or plane? Will I swim to Taiwan the next time?
The bottom line is that we unconsciously pollute the environment every day. All of us participate in climate change. My profession is to write about art, but you know what? Screw it! Throw soup at art. In the end, maybe it is better than a nature art festival with half a million cars lined up to see it.
Sumetee Pahwa Gajjar, PhD, is a Cape-Town based climate change professional who has contributed to scientific knowledge on transformative adaptation, climate justice, urban EbA and nature-based solutions. I currently work at the science-policy-research interface of climate change, biodiversity and vulnerability reduction, in the Global South.
My research interests continue to be focused on urban sustainability transitions, through collaborative governance, just innovations and climate technologies.
Humankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in.
Yes, it is helpful, in that it is an act that showcases the level of despair that some of us feel, and share. Humankind, and especially those who have caused and continue to generate the highest levels of global emissions, unfortunately, do not care to see the links between their wealth, consumption practices, and the social and environmental predicaments other humans find themselves in. We come from some of the highest emitting societies of the world (Germany, India, South Africa), and feel that ‘getting our priorities right is key’ and by now warm words are not enough. The intended audience of the climate activists who have been defacing “precious” works of art are the very privileged and powerful among us, who have enough wealth to own such works of art, and possibly the means as well to drive a recalibration of societal trajectories.
We understand that the intent of the climate activists was to deface famous works of art and glue themselves to the spot, in order for their frustration and anger to be heard since they could not be removed from the site of the ‘crime’. While the paintings were not actually damaged, the series of well-orchestrated acts of frustration have succeeded in creating a reaction, as evidenced in all the articles and comments about them, while earlier protests, science, and appeals have not solicited such a wide societal reaction, to date. The shock value of these tactics has spurred dialogue, debate, and polarisation in some cases, in places where privilege otherwise softens a scientifically-informed and locally-grounded response to the climate crisis.
Unfortunately, the actual beautiful and priceless “thing” that the paintings are meant to represent, the earth and all life on it, remains under existential threat and does not have a glass cover protecting it. It is a gift whose resources we have inherited and needs all of us to care for and protect it. Are we, as the carers of this planet, a world society and, between countries, able to manage a rights-based, peaceful transition / transformation process, with the necessary scale and speed? As an appropriate response to the current socio-economic and environmental crises facing humanity? Or are conflict and disruption (sometimes forcefully) needed? As disruptive as these acts have been, they are also reminiscent of the Chipko Andolan, whereby rural women in India clung onto trees that they did not want authorities to cut down. The defaced famous paintings serve the dual purpose of standing in for our precious planet, and for hurting the privileged, where it hurts.
Historically, it appears as if those in power are unwilling to redistribute power and wealth. In which case those among us, who are frustrated at the lack of action, believe the science that predicts large areas of the earth as becoming unliveable, well before the end of the century, due to the climate crisis, and see current practices culminating in further exacerbated biodiversity loss, will see sufficient cause to rebel. We will also find support among those of us who find our writing, research, and scientific endeavours failing to achieve the desired shifts toward transformational change. The risk is that it may not remain performative, which the recent acts by climate activists were. We are in an era of hard questions and challenges when tweaking around the edges will not be sufficient, to avoid doom and gloom.
These acts by the climate activists lead to the basic question:
What kind of action would the wealthy and powerful react to so that an agreed, consensus-based, peaceful transition / transformation process (at the necessary scale and speed), can be commenced? Such a rights-based process must incorporate the difficult task of redistribution of wealth (including dismantling the supremacy of private ownership of land and property rights) and the injustices associated with current agreements, whereby those who have contributed the least to climate change, suffer the most, and will continue to do more so in the future.
Martin is the founder and the current Managing Director of PlanAdapt, based in Freiburg, Germany. He heads and manages the PlanAdapt Coordination Hub. Martin also leads the continuous co-design and curation process behind the Climate Co-Adaptation Lab – PlanAdapt’s Collaboration and Innovation Platform.
Nancy B. Grimm is an ecologist studying interactions of climate change, human activities, resilience, and biogeochemical processes in urban and stream ecosystems. Grimm was founding director of the Central Arizona–Phoenix LTER, co-directed the Urban Resilience to Extremes Sustainability Research Network, and now co-directs the NATURA and ESSA networks, all focused on solving problems of the Anthropocene, especially in cities. Grimm was President of the Ecological Society of America (ESA) and is a Fellow of AAAS, AGU, ESA, SFS, and a member of the NAS. She has made >200 contributions to the scientific literature with colleagues and students.
Defacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism.
No.
Yes, I am frustrated that insufficient action is being taken to avert the climate crisis in the face of overwhelming evidence of its current and future impacts. Yes, I feel helpless against a power structure that seems continually to be all talk, no action. Our opportunities as individual citizens to influence policy seem to be too few and too weak to meet the urgency of the problem. As a scientist, I work on the impacts of climate change and strategies for adaptation and resilience and co-create future visions that can help steer cities toward meaningful actions. I worry that this too is insufficient and has little influence.
Yet, actions intended to incur shock and dismay to draw attention to the crisis are not effective. First, we must consider who the audience is. Museum visitors likely view the activists as eccentric and radical, and the press latches on to their actions as outlandish stunts that are newsworthy for their weirdness. The outrageousness allows those who really need to hear the message to ignore it as fringe behavior. In effect, these actions can marginalize all climate activism.
And the analogy doesn’t transfer well. “How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?”, asked when comparing precious art to the precious Earth, is probably more apt as an analogy for countless other global changes, such as land transformation wrought by mining and industrial agriculture, or modification of shorelines, rivers, and water bodies. Global-warming impacts manifest through more unseen, though certainly deadly, changes like increases in severity or frequency of storms, sea-level rise, extinctions due to phenological mismatches, or extreme heat events that put people’s lives at risk.
Climate scientist Katherine Hayhoe has been a vocal advocate for talking about climate change—in our homes and workplaces, with our friends and colleagues. The logic for this strategy is that a sea change in mass sentiment is needed, which can be a powerful driver of policy change. Talking about climate change is something that everyone can do. Would shock climate activism get climate conversations started? Perhaps. But the conversations should instead center on why and how to change our lifestyles, and how to elevate the rank of climate change among “issues we care about” above that of the economy or the price of gasoline, how we can effectively lobby for change with our pocketbooks and our votes.
Defacing famous art draws attention to the act, not the crisis, and centers on the activist, not the reason for the activism. There are more and better ways to support policies to mitigate climate change and to strengthen local capacity for resilience and adaptation in support of climate equity and justice.
David makes art with ecology, to inquire and learn. He researches, publishes, and works internationally with ecosystems and their inhabitants, using images, poetic texts, walking and sculptural installations to generate dialogues that question climate change, species extinction, urban development, the nature of water transdisciplinarity and ecopedagogy for ‘capable futures’.
History loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions.
Maybe… ‘getting people’s attention’ is not the most important issue?
Maybe… ‘activists’ still have a role to play, but maybe the time requires different forms of action?
Maybe… science was never ‘enough’, as its methods don’t represent everyone, particularly the most climate vulnerable?
Maybe… the arts have a part to play in addressing the nexus of climate, species, and cultural crises, by shifting the way we think?
Maybe… it’s time for other stories?
A Story of Settlement and Rebellion
In Eurasia, around 7500 BCE, the Neolithic period ended with the first Agricultural Revolution. Sedentary living made settlements necessary in the Fertile Crescent and the inception of cities, made institutions of power, subjugation, and Modernity possible; and the corollary of rebellion necessary.
From this time, the Abrahamic religions share the story of Exodus, when Moses rebelled against Pharaoh over the enslavement of his people. That this story is now understood to be a myth, does not matter, for its the art of storying (the making and telling of stories) that is important in the creation of a belief system that has supported Modernity’s obsession with controlling sedentary culture to the present day. Indeed, colonial (and neo-colonial) expeditions and exploitation relied on the dominance of one people and their domain over others.
This story begat other stories that, over time, provided the narratives and methods of religion and science, state and corporation, to perpetuate normative, industrialised, urban, Western mindsets. However, this is not necessarily “human nature”. Within the Amazon, for instance, Aztec-like townsfolk maintained a symbiotic relationship with nomadic people who maintained the forest to benefit all.
A Story of Personalities and Transformations
History loves the romance associated with activists as they create memorable events. The stories in the books of most of the world’s religions, nation hoods, and social movements feature activists who needed to disrupt oppressive conditions. However, from the prophets and saints of antiquity to Mahatma Gandhi, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and Nelson Mandela, some activists convert their activism into more meaningful and enduring transformations. But, have such transformations made the world a better, more peaceful, more just, and more inclusive place?
A Story of Oppression and Theatre
Oppression can suppress populations to comply with their oppressors, or as Augusto Boal wrote in Theatre of the Oppressed, it can prompt creative response. He marks the dramatic moment when an actor from the Athenian chorus spoke out against the city authorities’ control of performances and became the first protagonist. This act of activism provided the opportunity to transform the art form and civil society, simultaneously. Boal, himself, used this insight to develop a form of theatre in which audiences became the protagonists to potentially engage in their own emancipation.
A Story of Armageddon and Evolution
Planetary epochs and human advancement are described as revolutions, but the term is more readily applied now to political, or civil transitions – the end of one regime and the start of another. The scale and complexity of the climate emergency may, however, be understood as Armageddon (the Christian concept of a catastrophic conflict between good and evil, likely to destroy the human race) or Tandava (Shiva Nataraja’s dance of evolutionary creation and destruction) or Panarchy* (an unpredictable transitionary period within an ecological adaptive cycle). Maybe, the inevitable cascading tipping points, predicted by science, render the actions of activists like JSO, XR, and others somewhat futile. Or are they? If nothing else, their activism has provoked this TNOC Roundtable of thirty-six articles from people around the world and they will be read by many more.
Maybe… such provocations will evoke** a post-apocalyptic reconnection with nature for those who may survive and cities may support their ecosystems, for no story is ever complete…?
Cecilia Polacow Herzog is an urban landscape planner, retired professor at the Pontifical Catholic University of Rio de Janeiro. She is an activist, being one of the pioneers to advocate to apply science into real urban planning, projects, and interventions to increase biodiversity and ecosystem services in Brazilian cities.
On one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is now, is not reaching the public.
Maybe. The activists who are harming unique artworks, trying to call attention to the systemic planetary emergency that is impacting societies and the biosphere, are driving attention around the world. I am not sure what I think about those actions. On one hand, I love art and am shocked by this “vandalism”. On the other, I know that the message of the critical situation our civilization is in now is not reaching the public. As what has happened for decades with scientists’ alerts based on robust knowledge. I don’t think these attacks on famous paintings are effective for the intended target. In fact, they call it one-day news attention, and that’s it… Luckily the artworks have not been severely damaged.
Our civilization has surpassed some planetary boundaries and the speed to exceed others is evident. The system is too powerful and destructive and needs to keep the unsustainable growth myth that supports capitalism. Businesses as usual have been greenwashed to seduce consumers, no structural change has been effectively done yet. The consumerism and advertisement are guiding most people’s choices in the direction of self-destruction, accumulating monetary wealth in the hands of very few families. At the same time, having half of humanity out of the game, but those don’t count toward the market… Actually, they are part of the humanitarian crisis that is the other side of the coin of the predator capitalist system… The poor people did not cause the climate crisis, but they are the ones who suffer the most.
At the opening of the COP27, António Guterres, Secretary-General of the United Nations, gave a serious alarm stating: “We are on a highway to climate hell with our foot still on the accelerator.” Although I believe everyone should do what is possible to take their foot off the accelerator, I doubt that the extreme activists’ behavior will have a real long-lasting effect to contribute to the urgent transition that humanity must do.
Art is a powerful means of inspiration and provokes emotional, personal changes. That’s what an unaccountable number of artists have been doing. They are engaged in illuminating unseen critical ecological and social issues. They have gained worldwide visibility, using their talents to get the message to the public in a constructive manner, such as Yann-Arthus Bertrand, Sebastião Salgado, Mary Mattingly, Dr. Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg, Olafur Eliasson, Doug Aitken, Nicole Dextras, Vik Muniz, among so many others. Several museums, cultural, and art centers have been promoting exhibitions to raise awareness about the pressing ecological and social issues. The approach of inspiring change, using art to make people feel how we could have better cities in harmony with nature and ourselves, is another way to make the public have a vision of a better present and future, that’s how Patrick Lydon works. I love his approach.
I believe real change comes from the people, with so many examples around the world, but needs real articulation. There is a need to overcome denial, diversion, and divide, as Michael E. Mann writes in the seminal book: The New Climate War.
I hope that the empowerment of new wiser leaders, young and historically excluded people, will enable a turn in the economic system. A paradigm shift is undergoing, forests and biomes are being intrinsically valued for the benefits they bring to the planet and humanity. In this process, the artists have been front-runners to call attention to the urgent ecological and humanitarian challenges. I believe nature-based solutions are the emerging transformation that will enable the rise of a nature-positive economy, an ecological economy.
I am a socio-ecologist committed to fostering wilder places and spaces for nature, as well as better connecting urban and rural areas. I am also a climate activist who has engaged in my fair share of disruptive actions – one of my favourites can be found here.
It is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
YES.
Disruptive tactics are necessary.
When employed effectively, they can act to challenge and destabilize entrenched power and expose injustice. Indeed, it is precisely because of the significant power differentials that exist between activists and climate-wrecking corporations and their compliant governmental allies, that we need to embrace a diversity of strategies and tactics, as well as work together with a rich mosaic of activists and perspectives.
In this way, I find myself more or less supporting recent attention-grabbing actions by Just Stop Oil (JSO) activists, including the infamous spraying of tomato soup on Van Gogh’s Sunflower painting in the National Portrait Gallery in London. Indeed, while I think I was more amused than anything else by the action itself, I feel their exposure of the disparity in the value assigned to ‘nature’ and particular officially-sanctioned cultural objects ― described as ‘priceless’, but effectively meaning they would sell for a very high price ― is both timely and necessary.
I have visited some of the most celebrated galleries in the world ― including the Prado in Madrid, Hermitage in St Petersburg, and the Museum of Pre-Columbian Arts in Santiago, Chile. Many of the famous artistic pieces they house are undoubtedly products of both cultural and individual genius, and their preservation and display are a source of great pleasure to millions. Nevertheless, the value and privilege assigned to some of these cultural objects, often enact a highly unequal, racist, and even speciest approach to preservation.
Beyond Cheap Nature
Part of this relates to the unspoken understanding that nature is or else should be cheap. In spite of the fact that the value of nature is increasingly acknowledged by a whole spectrum of actors ― from politicians, to developers, and the public at large ― the prevalence of a ‘cheap nature’ mentality remains widespread. It manifests in a lack of available funding for the maintenance of many city parks, even while they provide health and well-being benefits to thousands; a lack of official recognition given to urban wildlife on vacant and derelict land, even while these can be some of the richest sources of biodiversity in cities; and the extraordinary efforts that local activists must pursue to protect even the most highly designated protected areas from the flimsiest development proposals.
While increasing public access to and recognition of nature is essential, there needs to be a much more nuanced conversation about how and what we reciprocate to other species. Part of the challenge here is that the domineering neoliberal model of development constantly looks to narrow the field of responsibilities, including to other species, and increase opportunities for exploitation to monetary gain. Against this, regulation that mitigates the worst effects of this exploitation ultimately comes up short. This is exemplified in the fact that, in spite of genuine advances in the understanding of urban wildlife and the formulation of pro-wildlife policy, the most significant impacts of cities on wildlife remains poorly addressed – namely their ecological impacts through their global material and energy supply chains.
Returning to JSO’s tomato soup attack, it clearly ruffled some feathers in the UK press and generated heated condemnation and support. Was it merely performative? Maybe, maybe not. Activists like BP or Not BP have quite effectively employed disruptive tactics to force galleries such as the National Portrait Gallery to drop their fossil fuel sponsorship. Perhaps this desecration of an officially sanctioned artistic piece ― in consonance with attacks on colonial statues by Black Lives Matter activists ― can be understood as an escalation tactic in the ongoing conflict between an elite cultural regime and those who would see it take true account of its costs?
Pantea Karimi is an Iranian-American multidisciplinary artist, researcher, and educator based in San Jose, California. Her art explores historic, religious, scientific, and political themes. Karimi utilizes virtual reality (VR), performative video, animation, sound, print, drawing, and installation.
To bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness.
How do you feel when something beautiful and priceless has been defaced?” asked the climate activist after throwing food on an iconic painting. The “something” the activist referred to was the Earth itself.
As an artist, I can’t justify seeing any artworks being attacked or ruined even for a good cause. It is wrong! Art for centuries has chronicled the earth story. Van Gogh’s Olive Trees picturing a hot climate warms our spirit, while Turner’s Stormy Sea chills our spine. These paintings tell the story of climate.
We have been talking about climate change for a long time now, but still, progress is slow, and we are running out of time. Is science not enough? Yes, science is enough for featuring facts, but it is not enough to reach the masses who are not avid readers or active listeners. It happens that it doesn’t reach everyone the same way. Science has to be simplified and accessible for non-scientists.
What will spur action? Recently some climate activists have taken to gluing themselves to or throwing food on famous paintings. (Apparently, no paintings have been seriously damaged yet.) Are such shock tactics useful? No! to me they are property and cultural acts of vandalism. To bring attention to climate change, we need more conversations, and more scientific facts to be shared through conferences, local community events, at schools by discussing it with youth, and through art exhibitions, which are focused on the subject to bring awareness. As an artist, I would like to see more collaborations among scientists, artists, and institutions where we can express issues and reach the masses.
Christopher Kennedy is the associate director at the Urban Systems Lab (The New School) and lecturer in the Parsons School of Design. Kennedy’s research focuses on understanding the socio-ecological benefits of spontaneous urban plant communities in NYC, and the role of civic engagement in developing new approaches to environmental stewardship and nature-based resilience.
Here’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world.
Maybe, but here’s the thing: the earth has already been so significantly “defaced” that I’m not quite sure we understand what shock or urgency looks like anymore. Or perhaps more importantly, how best to build empathy for the more-than-human world. Actions like the ones at Courtauld Gallery remind us that we do need to test the boundaries of what agitates and excites the imagination to confront a crisis of worldviews that seems unwilling to understand the true scope of our climate crisis. This leaves us with a persistent question: what kinds of art, science, or activism will actually connect with people and enable large-scale societal change? And how do we compete with the likes of TikTok and a media-rich escapist environment so pervasive in our culture today?
If we consider these acts from a research perspective, a study by Sommer and Klöckner (2021) might be helpful. Their research highlights how artworks that inspire novel solutions and offer a way for communities to participate are often more impactful than conventional methods (e.g., mainstream news media, and scientific reports). Why? Because they can elicit a personal and emotional connection, which scholars and media critics continue to emphasize are more effective than providing facts or employing scare tactics concerning impacts or risks.
Is the recent wave of ‘climate shocktivism’ able to accomplish this personal connection? Maybe not fully, but I think we need all the tools at our disposal. And that may very well include Deborian spectacles like the ones being produced by Just Stop Oil and other groups. However, if we really want to indeed inspire a systems-level change, then we also need something more entrenched in our everyday experiences. Something long-term that is both gradual and “in-your-face”. Interventions into the food system (supermarkets, farms), the energy system (your car and gas station), the social systems (schools and courts), and economic systems (your work and livelihood) for which we depend upon. And while many artists or activists make attempts to do this, and even propose new systems (see Ant Farm, Bonnie Sherk, Eve Mosher, Superflex, Future Farmers, etc.), it’s rare that these interventions manifest into the kind of change at the scale we need. Ultimately, art, science, or activism in isolation will never be effective or sufficient. What we need is a multiplicity of strategies alongside transglobal policy that calls for a fundamental rethinking of our fossil fuel-obsessed culture, and actually holds corporations and actors accountable.
A splash of paint and a glued hand may not deliver that to us ultimately. Nor will condemnation from the art world that merely labels these actions a “stunt”. Perhaps these, like Thunberg’s climate strike, are examples of actions we need to see and debate as we imagine new practices and acts of creative resistance. Ones that help us shift our worldviews away from a human-centered narrative toward one of mutual flourishing.
I don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action.
NO
I don’t consider shock or violence a sustainable, engaging, or empathic strategy for anything, including societal transformation regarding climate change. Perhaps investigating our connections to everything ― living and dead, regional, and galactic ― has a chance of inspiring sacrifice, and love has a chance of engendering action. Immediate ventures require personal sacrifice for the health of our planet and all who experience this place as home. “Our house is on fire,” thank you Greta Thunberg for asking us, “what will we do?” Our children are rightly outraged by climate change, and the havoc my generation creates. Do we expect our children to clean up our mess? If not, who will? Perhaps the trees and their cooperative underground communication systems may offer a viable clue as nature struggles to adapt to a warming world.
Robin Lasser, Trees Talk, 24”x 72” archival ink jet postcard, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, 2022
Do violent acts, metaphorical or otherwise, targeting artworks inspire social change, movement, action? Let us consider the burning of books by the Nazis or the 2001 destruction of the two giant Buddhas in Bamiyan, Afghanistan by the Taliban. Are these acts of cultural violence an effective way to achieve cultural transformation?
Consider more recently, the actions of Wynn Bruce, a climate activist who set himself on fire in the plaza of the United States Supreme Court Building in Washington D.C. This act of self-sacrifice reflects the depth of his conviction that the value of an individual life is negligible compared to the havoc we are irrevocably bringing to our planet. This act of ultimate sacrifice carries a different weight than throwing soup on an iconic artwork, created by a male western Caucasian artist.
What call and response do such actions provoke in your nervous system?
Personally, I take refuge, wisdom, and inspiration from the trees. When the single organism vast aspen grove is threatened in any way, vital messages must be transmitted through a cryptic underground fungal network; interconnections to help sustain the health and vitality of the collective organism. These signals have evolved in unique and highly specialized ways so that subtle but effective messages move efficiently among highly interconnected trees, and cue appropriate defense responses. This network is pervasive throughout the entire forest floor, connecting all the trees in a constellation of tree hubs and fungal links. “The most shocking aspect of this pattern is that it has similarities with our own human brains. In it the old and young are perceiving, communicating, and responding to one another by emitting chemical signals…. It is enough to make one pause, take a deep breath, and contemplate the social nature of the forest and how this is critical for evolution. The fungal network seems to wire the trees for fitness. These old trees are mothering their children.” (Suzanne Simard, Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest)
Robin Lasser, Trees Talk, 24”x 72” archival ink jet postcard, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, 2022
Damage from global warming represents the culmination of decades of rampant industrialization throughout the world and any effort to slow or reverse this condition will require a shared global recognition of cause and effect and a highly integrated and organic transcultural messaging system much like the communication system nature has provided the aspen grove. The trees offer wisdom, and they may save us, if we listen.
Do these museum interventions align with this challenge?
Lucie Lederhendler has been the curator of the Art Gallery of Southwestern Manitoba, a community-engaged, contemporary public art gallery, since 2021. Her research is concerned with the ecosystems of mythologies and the mythologies of ecology. She is a lecturer in art history at Brandon University.
These performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action.
Unanimous YES.
To tease apart the assumptions that inform our “yes”, we offer excerpts from a conversation we (an artist, an educator, and a curator, each at different times inhabiting all three roles) had at a local pub. We chose to frame our response as a barroom métissage because this type of conversing and life writing invites contradictory ways of being, relating, knowing, and acting in precarious times. As such, the following is a weaving of perspectives:
These performative gestures of threat and violence are powerful enough to disrupt societal complacency in the face of the climate crisis. Science has deciphered what is unavoidably unfolding, but activists are shouldering the responsibility of shifting the paradigm from awareness to meaningful action. They can be reconfigured in our minds as self-proclamation performed in the vernacular of modern media fluency.
The events entangle the artists’ hands, the hands of the activists, and the manicured fingers of those who work in the commodification of art objects.
The accusations, retweeting, and vitriol on social media responded to this messiness in two apparent ways. One, our global vulnerability is laid out; our fingers and fates are interlocked. You can’t touch a surface or another being without being touched. Two, we have yet to collectively name the anticipatory grief that roils underneath the material and metaphoric losses precipitated by the climate crisis. Without a goodbye, we sow seeds of unmetabolized sorrow.
The art objects themselves are many things. At one time, they were selected to be a part of the canon in an unspoken consensus formed by the enfranchised few. Because their participation in the canon endures today, they are also integral to the market as commodified objects. The idea that they are priceless as heritage objects play into the conception of “rare genius,” when, in fact, their heritage value is in their canonical status. That is, they tell a story of priorities that are shifting or static. Meanwhile, the damage done to the frames, walls, and public access to these works will resonate very much with the workers whose time, expertise, and labour are exchanged for currency.
They are recognized currency that will always appreciate, and emblematic of reassuring continuity, where their familiarity through media proliferation alludes to static institutions and inert dominant beliefs. They beg to be disrupted and problematized.
They are also a vehicle for attention. We are reminded of the horses racing at the Epsom Derby under which Emily Dickson ran in 1913 to protest against women’s suffrage and fight for women’s votes.
These art objects, now, are indistinguishable from ourselves.
The actions demand a scrutinizing look at a system that places less value on the flourishing of life (real sunflowers) than it does on the fossil-fueled fetishization of objects in an im/material world. More extreme provocations are called for in a time crumbling under a proliferation of global crises.
The value of these protests lies in the ease with which they strategize today’s communication. Projects that compete for the world’s attention inevitably must be deliberate gestures that threaten violence toward “untouchable” artworks. Resilience manifested as radical acts and civil disobedience imagines a shared fracture and requests pause for reflection. This particular brand of passion, screaming into the storm out of desperation instead of staying silent out of hopelessness, is the sole option left to insist on the changes that we have to make, sure, to stop global temperature rise, but mostly to ready ourselves for the inevitable adjustments we will have to make to the ways we live together.
*In the spirit of responsibility, gratitude, and reconciliation, the authors acknowledge the Anishinaabe, Cree, Oji-Cree, Dakota, and Dene peoples as the rightful inhabitants of this territory designated as “Treaty Two,” and honour the Red River Métis, on whose homeland we reside.
Visual artist Ben Davis has an expanded practice, working across a diverse range of media and approaches, often collaboratively, to explore land and meaning through lenses of social justice, eco-aesthetics, and postcolonial theory. Through his research, he unsettles and responds to the physical and socially-constructed terrain of a location. He has exhibited widely, and since moving to Canada, has taught at Brandon University while also being actively involved in community arts education.
Alysha Farrell is an Associate Professor in the Faculty of Education at Brandon University. Her research focuses on the emotional dimensions of teaching in the face of the climate crisis. She uses arts-based methods like narrative photography, playwriting, and forum theatre to share stories about what it feels like to live and learn in a warming world.
Patrick M. Lydon is an American ecological writer and artist based in Korea whose seeks to re-connect cities and their inhabitants with nature. He writes The Possible City series, is co-founder of City as Nature (Daejeon). He is an Arts Editor here at The Nature of Cities.
I dig punk rock, and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now, are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Maybe it is a start.
Does context matter?
Some thirty years ago, the artist Ai Weiwei painted the Coca-Cola logo onto a 2,000-year-old urn. A few years later, he broke two such ancient vases on purpose, photographing the act. The images became an artwork known as Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn. Most of the international art community hailed these as ‘brilliant’ works of art.
When asked why he dropped the 2,000-year-old vases, Weiwei commented that “Chairman Mao used to tell us that we can only build a new world if we destroy the old one.”
Could Mao’s instructions help us today? Maybe ‘destroying’ old social values is a bit extreme. But one could hardly argue with the need to at least ‘let go’ of most of our aggressively anthropocentric value systems.
Can we let go?
Most humans actually want to. The wall between us and that ‘letting go’ in most cases, is simply the fact that we are afraid of not knowing where we’ll land after we have let go. This fear is understandable, and it seems to come mostly from our not having met the right stories—narratives of what a possible, equitable, regenerative world might look and feel like in our own corner of the world.
Does story matter?
One could argue that the thing which separates the current spat of climate activism from artworks like Dropping a Han Dynasty Urn, is the absence of a cohesive story embedded into the act. Story is a necessity. For the whole of human history, so far as we know, story is the tool that has built our world, reminded us who we are, why we are here, and most importantly, what we value.
Our culture is a story. Things like currency, status, power, material wealth, science, the nuclear family, precious artworks. These are, all of them, cultural stories; viewpoints of how to see the world. There is no finite value for instance, in a pile of paper with numbers on it, or in a blockchain of 1’s and 0’s. The value comes from a collective societal belief in a story. “Ah, money has value. Ah, this artwork is priceless.” These are all stories; epiphanies transcended into shared values through continued cycles of retelling and believing.
Is it wrong to value money or artwork more than we value human survival? I don’t know. What I do know is that money and art are both good examples of how the value system of our society works. Both offer compelling stories, and compelling stories work.
Our biggest issue in our inability to deal with climate change then, is not that we do not know how to solve it — both science and practice show that we do know how. The issue is that we have not yet written and/or shared enough good stories about the way forward, stories about the possible world that biologists, farmers, solar punks, sustainable urbanists, and others are trying to show us.
I dig punk rock and throwing soup at art is a nice punk rock try. What we need now, are more compelling stories, not about the world we currently inhabit, but about the world we want to inhabit, and how we can get there.
Illustration from “SHORT #23: The Guadalupe Parkway of Juanjuan’s Dreams” on The Possible City
This is partly why last year, City as Nature began a series of illustrated stories called The Possible City. It is also part of why places like The Nature of Cities are so important, gathering points where we can thoughtfully share and take in such diverse opinions.
The more effort we put into such interactions, the more we transform and nurture the sort of values that will bring us through these times, and into what is possible.
Krystal C. Mack is a self-taught designer and artist using her social practice to highlight food and nature’s role in collective healing, empowerment, and decolonization. Through comestible and social design, Krystal seeks to publicly unpack and heal personal traumas relevant to her lived experience as a disabled Black woman.
When science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Yes.
No, science is not enough.
We learned this during the COVID-19 pandemic.
Even with a substantial amount of science around social distancing, masking, and vaccination, many people still ignore the researched and proven facts presented to them, even when their lives and loved ones’ lives are at stake, science can at times be not enough or even too much to believe in.
So, when science needs a little boost to really get folks on board, everyone knows shock value protests are always a great move.
Actually, I think they’ve been scientifically proven to be a great move, but you know how fake science can be…
But I do believe that shock value protests are useful up to a point.
They can bring attention (positive or negative) to an issue.
They can create opportunities for public discourse around protest strategy.
And these types of protests could help folks think critically about the effects of climate change and how they’re present in our lives today.
The Just Stop Oil activists succeeded in their more immediate goal to spread their message of ending our global reliance on oil.
But when it comes to getting those in power to end their dependence on oil?
Social communicator, journalist and social designer, interested in how design, communication and social innovation can shape and reshape a more resilient and sustainable future. A strong believer that empathy, creativity, cooperation and the force of landscape opens up infinite opportunities to build better societies, more connected to nature and people.
Art has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
I answer this question with a No, and immediately this cartoon by the Spanish cartoonist Flavita Banana comes to my mind. We see a group of artworks making a counter-protest against the attacks they are suffering from environmental activists, joining together as an “association of paintings that have nothing to do with global warming.
And it is at this point that I ask myself, why is it that, instead of going against art, we use it as an ally to protest and raise awareness about the impact of climate change?
Some artists have used art to raise awareness and nurture people’s critical spirit around climate change and the importance of taking immediate action.
The Galician artist, Isaac Cordal, questions these concrete men with water around their necks the commitment of political leaders and society, in the fight against global warming, and their lethargy and inability to act.
Politicians discussing climate change. Montreal, Canada (2015). Isaac Cordal
“We live in a society full of uncertainty; I am interested in using creativity as a strategy of struggle to try to understand the world we have created, and if possible, to change it. Answer the artist in an interview.
Another artist, Silvestre Santiago originally from Santander, has been leaving signs in major cities across Europe for years about the impact of global warming on the Earth.
“The world is going down the drain” by Silvestre Santiago
“The world is going down the drain” is one of his many works that challenge us and make us reflect on the consequences of climate change and our responsibility for it.
Yes, art can also be an instrument of awareness-raising and a tool for mobilizing people against climate change. But is it enough? Raise awareness, but to whom? Hardly to those people who hold the power to make decisions.
But if in order to draw attention, it is decided to attack or destroy art, there is certainly something wrong going on here.
To vindicate the life of the planet by attacking art is to attack something that forms part of our life, of who we are as a society and our culture. Art has been part of human life since the very beginnings of humanity and has forged our civilization. Attacking something that is an inherent part of human life is a contradiction.
Why attack art? Perhaps because art represents another form of power. For some short-sighted people, it may be just that. For the rest, art is much more. That’s why vandalizing works of art arouses more rejection than conscience because it is an attack against what we are.
Let us raise our voices against climate change, but let art be our great ally in doing so, not the target to attack.
Nea is interested in how social interaction and tailored communication can affect our behaviors, specifically in the context of sustainable transitions. She has a M.Sc. in Sustainable Development, and has studied international journalism, marketing and communications. Nea has worked at the International Trade Centre Ethical Fashion Initiative, European Centre in Infectious Disease Prevention Control and ICLEI - a network of sustainable cities and towns, in development, media and communications roles.
The message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Yes – albeit my initial reaction upon seeing the news was what has Van Gogh done to deserve this? Why not choose a Picasso instead? But one has to admit the stunts are effective. People are growing immune to the effects of the barrage of climate doom and gloom in the news – and this made headlines far and wide. Further, the action ruffled the feathers of the high art circles who thought they might not have to deal with the climate change debate. Like in the ending of the movie ‘Don’t Look Up’ (spoiler alert) after the asteroid that everyone ignores (climate change) destroys the whole planet human artifacts float lost in space, as nothing more than detritus ― all of their imbued meaning lost without their host. “Attacking” timeless and classic art is poignant as we are running out of time. Note I will now talk of the young and the old, in very generalised terms ― there are exceptions! The younger generations are getting tired and cannot comprehend the resistance to change among the older generations. Slow and steady here does not win the race. I would expect this to be the spark for more drastic acts of ecoterrorism. Is throwing tomato soup or gluing oneself to art the most productive path for change? No, but I understand the frustration and desperation watching endless COPs and IPCC reports go by without drastic actions. Change when one is comfortable is difficult, and many affluent western nations and certain generations are just that. The previous generations feel like they worked hard for this wealth, prosperity, and power ― they did not expect the carpet being swiped out below their carefully built foundation at this stage in their lives. As we get past a certain age there is the expectation that things will become more settled and that we get to reap the benefits of our hard work. One can empathise with the resistance to having been told that what you strived for was wrong, your lifestyle damaging, and you need to change now now now! However, much of this striving for stableness ― or shall we say staleness, comes from the desire to ignore the inevitable ― death. People want to lull themselves into a false security as they age to avoid the unavoidable. But the thing is ― change is the only constant. We would do better as a species acknowledging this and embracing the other side of life, maybe by acknowledging how fleeting and precious our time is, we would treat things as more sacred. So what do I think a more productive path is to address climate change? Dialogue, understanding, and empathy. Incremental and persistent small changes reverberate into bigger transformations. But shock tactics do not hurt (we hope) either.
The message from the activists is loud and clear: nothing is sacred if we are treating our planet like trash. Rings true right?
Dr. Mitchell Pavao-Zuckerman is an Associate Professor at the University of Maryland. He is an ecologist studying the interactions of decision making, design, and environmental change on ecosystem processes in urban landscapes.
Shock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
No.
These activists attempt to spur action by connecting climate change, art, and science, and, while they are right to make those links, they miss the mark.
While we might also be tempted to say, ‘listen to the science!’ ― science and facts about climate change alone are not enough to motivate action. People understand our planet is changing. Headlines constantly show the increasing role climate change is playing in the frequency and intensity of extreme weather events like drought, floods, heatwaves, and fires. Motivating people to act on climate change is more a matter of communication. We already have enough facts and know enough about climate change. So, people in general already know about climate change ― as Just Stop Oil themselves recognize, “it’s not even about raising awareness now, it’s about demanding action.” If that is the case, what role can art take in raising awareness of climate change?
People may have trouble connecting with the global scale of climate change and need some local touchstone to help make that global scale more intimate. The environmental writer Mitchell Thomashow suggests that personal links between art and science, such as keeping a nature journal, would help us observe changes around us over time, changes in places we are emotionally connected to ― this could motivate people to act by connecting them to a planetary scale change.
On the recent art protests, eco-philosopher Tim Morton said, “that’s the point of [the soup protest], to make everything suddenly uncanny…deliberately or not, to stop people and make them see things differently.” Art itself can do that too. Protestors and activists can cut out the middleman and seek out collaborations with artists and scientists. We could flip the conversation and see how the art itself can be an intervention, a tactical innovation, and a form of protest to raise awareness of climate change, help build coalitions, and spur people to action. Shock alone is not enough to change minds and make people act, but relationships between art, ecology, and activism can reframe how we see our planet and our place in it.
A great example of this is a work of art that is a collaboration between the artists Justin Brice Guariglia and Tim Morton, titled, We Are the Asteroid. In this piece, an electronic construction message sign is altered to display a set of ‘eco-haikus’. These messages are jarring and disruptive (just like throwing soup on a painting). These messages make things uncanny and in doing so, make us see things differently. We reconceptualize our place and role ― equivalent to a cosmic event ― framed within a warning sign that is common in our urban spaces. Throwing soup might be shocking and uncanny (pun intended?) ― but it seems to make people angry and not necessarily see themselves and their relationship with the Earth differently.
We Are The Asteroid – by Guariglia and Morton – photo by MPZ
The performative nature of the recent art protests (no paintings were harmed in the making of this protest) is shocking, but not enough to help us reframe our relationship with nature and act urgently to meet the challenges we face.
Unknown – Street graffiti in Paris – photo by MPZ
References
Thomashow, M. 2001. Bringing the biosphere home. MIT Press.
Originally from Buenos Aires, Pietrapiana lives and works in New York City. His work has been exhibited at Exit Art NY, AES Gallery NY, Local Project, The Argentine Consulate in NYC, El Bodegon Cultural de Los Vilos Art Center in Chile and Centro Cultural Recoleta in Buenos Aires, among other venues and part of the Pfizer Corporate Collection, The Springfield Museum of Art and private collectors.
Personally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not ‘yesterday’, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
Maybe.
As a visual artist myself, I have incorporated the overarching theme of our climate crisis into my own practice, in order to bring awareness and make it part of the conversation. I admit that I can be quite obsessive when it comes to pollution, plastic, and mass consumption of disposable items that end up in landfills. But, according to science, aka facts, we are at a point where we, collectively, have to force ourselves to stop and think before buying or consuming the abundance of product choices that a post-industrial society offers.
Pietrapiana “Seatbelt”
That is ―in reality― the point.
When it comes to this environmental crisis, yes, progress is dangerously slow, (especially when big players like China, Russia, and India do not sit at the table of COP 27).
The clock has been ticking for decades now.
The scientific community and environmental leaders have been ringing the bell for years, but few were listening, and many were in denial or simply did not care.
We are coming out of a global pandemic, people have somehow lost trust in governments, and I get the feeling that those disillusions and frustrations fall into the funnel of living the moment, pursuing pleasure and instant gratification. I am not an academic but cannot avoid thinking of what legacy most people will then leave to their beloved offspring.
Personally, I think that people and governments have to act now. if not yesterday, even though it might mean adjusting habits and making personal sacrifices in order to navigate the transitions needed to reach a more sustainable way of living.
The climate crisis is not something that happens to others while we remain safe and untouched.
It affects us all and respects no borders.
The crude reality is that when it comes to our climate crisis (proven that was caused by us), nuclear threat, and the vaguely touched topic of infotech combined with biotech, we are all on the same boat.
And that boat is our planet Earth.
This scenario is challenging us all to think differently, be aware of our habits and adjust our behaviors accordingly.
At this point, all methods to bring awareness and provoke civil actions are worth trying. I am not here to pass judgement on other actions taken, but after many years of psychotherapy, I tend to think that we might want to channel our frustrations through proper and hopefully effective routes, like addressing government officials, fossil fuel giants, and other sources of global pollution.
Serious legislation and enforcement are long overdue.
Nations seem polarized as well as the societies within their borders. Reactions are short-lived and easy to manifest. Maybe what we need here is to take the hard, difficult road of adjusting our consumption habits, and engaging those who oppose or deny this reality in conversations that are inclusive, patient, and generous in essence, in order to inspire action and hammer out serious agreements.
Civility, open and respectful conversations are not a sign of weakness. It is easy to “be bad”.
It takes strength and character to stay on course. If we do care for our present and future generations (who are our kids today), we have to try to be and do good. We all know the difference.
The climate/environmental crisis is happening to us now and it is urgent. We have no time to point fingers and argue what has happened since the Industrial Revolution. That would be a waste of time.
And time is of the essence.
Indulge me in closing this with a passage from John Steinbeck’s 1960/2 Travels with Charley:
“American cities are like badger holes, ringed with trash ―all of them― surrounded by piles of wrecked and rusting automobiles, and almost smothered with rubbish. Everything we use comes in boxes, cartons, bins, the so- called packaging we love so much. The mountains of things we throw away are much greater than the things we use. In this, if in no other way, we can see the wild and reckless exuberance of our production, and waste seems to be the index.”
Robert Pirani is the program director for the New York-New Jersey Harbor & Estuary Program at the Hudson River Foundation. HEP is a collaboration of government, scientists and the civic sector that helps protect and restore the harbor’s waters and habitat.
Bold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
Yes
But what makes public discourse?
Here is a scenario you might be familiar with: Your committee’s deliberations stretched past lunch and into the late hours of the afternoon. The group had run through the icebreakers, developed a theory of change, prioritized actions, brainstormed metrics, and was now considering next steps and assigning responsibilities. The excitement of the challenge and finding common understanding had faded. The uncertainty of knowledge, familiar disagreements, and the need for additional data, study, funding, and time loomed ahead.
No one expects that developing a collective response to climate change is easy. The imperative for action can easily run aground on the slow pace of developing scientific, technical, and political understanding and consensus.
But the imperative is there. It is sometimes easy for the scientists, planners, managers, and policymakers among us to lose sight of that during needed, but sometimes endless, deliberations.
The tragic consequences of extreme weather can impel action (and the availability of funding). But post-disaster decision-making is unlikely to lead to thoughtful responses. And once the disaster has left the headlines, people and politicians forget. Daily life resumes. And the will to make substantial, long-lasting, and effective change seems to fade as well.
Gluing one’s head to a painting is not a response to climate change. It’s just a cry for help. But political theatre and creative protests keep climate change and its consequences in the public eye and in the collective discourse. While muddling through our climate crises is perhaps inevitable, muddle we must. The only wrong thing to do is to stop trying to find answers.
Bold statements that our shared heritage is at stake, whether it is our art or our shared planet, remind us that business as usual is not really going to cut it.
The climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention.
Yes and no.
The climate urgency really calls for more radical solutions to get people’s attention. In fact, the population has not been sensitized by the scientists’ warnings and time is passing without the world reacting to the height of the urgency. That said, the attitude of the activists who threw food at historical paintings seemed, at first, something valid: after all, it really caught the attention of many people and caused reflections on the urgency. However, the repetition of this same type of action ends up causing the opposite effect: it creates dislike for the movement represented by the activists and for actions in favor of climate awareness.
Andrew Rudd is the Urban Environment Officer for UN-Habitat’s Urban Planning & Design Branch in New York, where he leads substantive advocacy for the urban dimension of the 2030 Agenda for Sustainable Development (including the SDGs).
Against the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful.
Yes.
Emily Brocklebank and Louis McKechnie have our attention. Against the increasingly numbing news about climate change which risks becoming background noise, that is already useful. Now we are debating several questions which would probably not otherwise have attracted such a diverse crowd. Do activists have to destroy art or anything of value? Can they make their point with less collateral damage? Is there some other way?
Considering these questions reminded me of the debate around the protests against George Floyd’s murder. Many were peaceful protests organized by Black Lives Matter. Others involved more spontaneous destruction of property and looting of shops. Critiques of both had more or less the same gist: disruption is not the right way to solve injustice; in a civilized society we use accepted channels.
Yet, in the US and elsewhere, there is a long history of law enforcement not being held accountable for lethal use of force, particularly against Black people. When institutions constituted to represent and protect citizens from harm fail to do so, what recourse is there? Trevor Noah explained it well: ‘When people burn things, they say it’s not the right way…it’s never the right way to protest because that is what protest is. It cannot be right because you are protesting against the thing that is stopping you.’ In other words, no—there is no other way than to protest.
Another critique is that protest can backfire, swaying public opinion against the right to dissent. I actually think it has laid bare perverse ideas of value. How can property be worth more than life? How does the destruction of a glass storefront even compare to the destruction of a person’s life? Is the limited damage of several paintings really on par with the annihilation of countless species? Activism has forced a reckoning with these questions. Many people finding answers will catalyze change.
In her ruling for the Courtauld Gallery, the district judge wrote ‘it is not in a state where it can return to its original state…it is not minor, insignificant, temporary, or trivial.’ That she was referring to the painting’s frame rather than the planet’s fate is ironic, to say the least. It betrays a deadly lack of proportionality that these activists are bringing to light. They are drawing a useful analogy that will change some minds for the better. In other words, yes—there is another way to value life. Whether enough minds are changed in time to avert a climate tipping point remains to be seen but this is a collective effort, and we must all do what we can to try.
An indigenous artist of Ngati Pakau, Ngapuhi descent, Tanya works with Mātauranga Māori (ancestral knowledge and navigational tools) to design pathways of transitional Indigenous Futures and Indigenous Speculative Design. She is currently working with dedicated indigenous and non-indigenous textile researchers, academics, scientists, engineers, growers, and local Iwi (tribes). Documenting the journey to develop circular designed, native plant fibre materials and textiles that will help to connect people back to the land through indigenous ways of knowing. As Executive Director for Native Land Digital, she is honoured to be a part of the team and is dedicated to the representation of indigenous tribal voices and their homelands.
The time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us.
No.
Why are we manifesting dystopian future worlds devoid of hope?
I respectfully acknowledge the global human suffering of many cultures around the world because of the already prevalent climate issues. From my perspective, indigenous nations have lost and continue to lose connection to everything they consider home. In Aotearoa (New Zealand), we continue to lose access to our ancestral wild foods because of agricultural pollution in our sacred waterways. For generations, our tribal councils have been fighting to protect the whenua (land) and arawai (waterways). Every year we watch as our tupuna glaciers recede further revealing the scarred underlying rocks beneath. Further across the Pacific, small island nations such as Tuvalu are facing rising sea levels threatening their island homes. However, rather than give up they are empowering their youth to actively advocate and show strength as leaders. Standing Rock saw indigenous tribal nations come together to stop the Keystone XL pipeline from crossing sacred land. The O’ahu Water Projectors are also fighting for safe clean water against the US Navy. Yet so much of this work by indigenous leaders and their communities goes unnoticed and unpublished. Indigenous nations are continually the first hit in times of environmental corruption, yet they continue to show mana collectively working for environmental justice by aiming directly at the corporations creating the devastation and because of this indigenous lives have been lost.
Environmental trauma from extreme weather events, whether experienced personally or not surfaces as feelings of grief, helplessness, fear, avoidance, anxiety attacks, depression, anger, and in severe cases suicide. Eco-anxiety, Climate-anxiety, or Climate Crisis depression were first documented in 2007. There is growing evidence to support the correlation between extreme weather events and increased depression. In the UK, a 2020 survey of child psychiatrists highlighted 57% of children and young people were distressed about climate crisis. In the US 75% are concerned about environmental issues and 25% are highly distressed. Comparatively many indigenous peoples experience the same symptoms. We understand that we belong to the natural world, therefore we honour and respect the environment because the natural world is the source of our spiritual knowledge systems. To claim ownership of the land our ancestors were actively disconnected from the natural world in an attempt to assimilate or extinguish them. In this way our tupuna (ancestors) experienced ‘worlds end’ and, collectively as their descendants, we have witnessed the emptiness of new worlds devoid of our cultural beliefs.
As a female indigenous artist and environmental activist, this form of vandalism within the gallery space saddens me. In my opinion, public galleries and museums are spaces for learning, dreaming, and inspiration. Ironically, even though these places are commonly bereft of indigenous stories I feel these superglue the hand to the frame, throwing oil onto paintings and subsequent copycat activations make a mockery of the hard work that is actually happening within our communities. It is equally saddening that this type of “activism” flows out into digital spaces and is picked up by social media platforms and viewed by millions, feeding into and enhancing negative feelings of powerlessness and fear. There is no empowerment in the performance of these actions.
This type of activism makes the assumption that the global populace is oblivious to climate issues, that we are all thoughtlessly walking into an abyss at the end of the world. The time for fighting over whether climate change does or doesn’t exist is long past. The most effective activism does something constructive to alleviate the issues around us. Environmental activists, artists, designers, scientists, urban planners, architects, policymakers, and all peoples who share a love for the ecosystems that sustain us are collectively thinking about how we can work together to do the real work. All energy and resources should be directed towards the most common and simple actions. We should be encouraging our collaborative relationships and building respect toward each other by serving our more than human relations. We can choose to manifest future worlds that are beneficial to all, simply by choosing to showcase this way of being.
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
So far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four Reasons.
Is defacing art helpful in climate activism?
Sadly, no. But not much else is either. Scientists and policymakers have been aware of climate change since the 1950s. And the general public has been well-enough informed about environmental issues since at least the first Earth Day, if not earlier (see A Silent Spring 1962, A Sand County Almanac 1949, Man and Nature 1849, and many others).
We have done plenty of “awareness building.” And it has led to a heartening level of “climate action” in terms of policy change, innovation, and implementation. At local, regional, and national in international scales. Renewable portfolios, take-back laws, efficiency standards, green planning, and sustainable farming are among the many actions we’ve taken to address climate change.
The problem is, it’s not enough. Not even close.
Why? Because the primary driver of climate change is a shared human delusion where we decouple the long-term, large-scale consequences of global economic growth from personal benefits that accrue from that growth in three broad categories: cost, comfort, and convenience. Wealthy nations and their citizens are unwilling to negotiate those three categories in a meaningful way, while less wealthy countries look to get in on the action by optimizing their own “three C’s,” which to them looks a lot like survival.
Climate activists are understandably frustrated that, after twenty-seven UN Climate Change Conferences in the last three decades, concrete, enforceable climate commitments linked to actual performance are, um, elusive.
I understand the frustration. As someone who followed Amory Lovins as an undergraduate in the 1970s, did my first climate change research in the 1980s, worked in the environmental field for decades, and suffered blow-hard business-as-usual incrementalists masquerading as “innovators,” I’ve LIVED that frustration.
So, I’m open to new approaches. I’m open to rattling a few cages. But so far, everything that climate activists have tried has failed to slow our global economic juggernaut. Doesn’t mean they shouldn’t keep trying. But art destruction looks like a dead end. Why? Four reasons.
First, doing bad things to art (destroying, defacing, appropriation, theft) puts you in pretty bad company, whether it’s the Taliban and Isis destroying statues and temples, the British Museum (Elgin Marbles), World War II Germany, or the various criminals who have smashed and grabbed works by Rembrandt, Raphael, Munch, and on and on). Do climate activists really want to be part of that club?
Second, destroying art to make a point doesn’t actually win friends and influence people. Don’t believe me? Ask the Taliban after they blew up the Bamiyan Buddas in 2001, or Isis after they leveled the temples of Bal Shamin and Bel in Palmyra in 2015. Okay, raising awareness to save the planet is not the same as imposing religious dogma. But the point stands. Find me a case of art destruction that changed attitudes and enlightened minds.
Third, defacing priceless art has a diffuse (small) public impact because of the ever-churning news cycle, briefly garnering the attention of a public that likely runs the spectrum from a few “approvers” to more “it’s sad they felt the need to do that, but I get it” to maybe more “these activists are nuts.” And then everyone moves on; attention moment over.
And finally, art attacks miss the crucial audience: powerful, wealthy decision-makers. If you want to influence this latter group, you have to threaten the things they truly care about. You think that’s art and culture? Think again, it’s power and wealth. The divestment movement has tried this with some, but not enough, success.
So, climate activists, you want impact? Look for high-impact, systemic, enduring, cage-rattling strategies. Defacing art isn’t one of them.
Ania Upstill (they/them) is a queer and non-binary performer, director, theatre maker, teaching artist and clown. A graduate of the Dell’Arte International School of Physical Theatre (Professional Training Program), Ania’s recent work celebrates LGBTQIA+ artists with a focus on gender diversity.
I don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem.
Maybe. I think these actions can be valuable for raising attention, but I don’t know how helpful they will be in the long run. There’s a part of me that loves the actions these climate activists are taking ― especially given that these paintings are protected with glass and are in no danger of being destroyed. The tactics are certainly effective at raising awareness ― I’ve seen more coverage of climate activism recently than I have for a long time. Part of that is the shock value. The images of iconic paintings with food spread across them are certainly striking. There’s an audacity that’s difficult to ignore. Who would dare deface the Mona Lisa, the most famous painting in the world?
So why my doubt? I question the assumptions these activists are making about their audience. The most obvious is that most, or all, people agree that the Earth is beautiful and priceless. I certainly agree, and I find the metaphor moving and powerful. Sadly, I’m not convinced that everyone agrees with this premise, nor am I convinced that defacing artwork will change anyone’s mind about the intrinsic value of the Earth. Another assumption is that simply raising awareness of climate change and environmental degradation will either a) spur greater overall public action or b) inspire world leaders to take faster action. But I’m not sure anyone who doesn’t already agree will be convinced by a metaphor, no matter how elegant or moving. I love humans, but we are slow to change our minds or actions, and when we do it is usually in response to something directly related to our lives, and in which we have a stake. While climate change does, or will, affect all of us, we have a hard time envisioning exactly how or what those impacts will be, and we can’t fathom actions we could take to prevent it. A strong call to action is powerful. What I find most powerful about my work with Theatre of the Oppressed is that our shows are framed to practice actions in the world to advance social justice. We show the problem, and the audience tries out solutions. The actions are concrete, and so are the outcomes. Adding a metaphor to a call to action (‘the painting is the Earth’) doesn’t necessarily make action feel more urgent or more achievable.
I also wouldn’t be surprised if public opinion is against them. These actions could encourage people to believe that climate activists are insane; that they are destructive; and that they are selfishly promoting their beliefs at the expense of others’ enjoyment of precious cultural artifacts. I don’t think we want to set up a scenario where we give more ammunition to the idea that we must choose between human culture and pleasure (art) and the natural world (the Earth). I believe better effects will come from actions that encourage people to see themselves as a part of the Earth and to build an understanding of how we will all be affected by climate change. I don’t think this can be done effectively with scientific knowledge alone but instead needs to be combined with an artistic approach that appeals to our senses, to our love of humanity and its accomplishments, and encourages an appreciation of our place in the global ecosystem. For such actions, we need scientists to share their understanding of natural systems. We need artists to think outside the box and create something beautiful and affecting. We need activists to bring their boldness and passion. I’d love to see what we can all accomplish together.
Stéphane Verlet Bottéro (b. 1987) is an artist working at the intersection of social practice, installation, education, writing, gardening, and cooking. He is interested in the entanglements of community, materiality, body, and place. Based on site-specific research and durational interventions, his practice seeks to open spaces to unlearn and unsettle ways of inhabiting the world.
At the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction).
Maybe.
Much has been said already about the efficiency, symbolism, and aesthetics of climate activists’ spectacular throwing of soup, puree, oil, flour, ink, glue, at artworks that are all somewhat iconic of western modernity ― from Constable’s pre-industrial revolution, bucolic Hay Wain to Warhol’s fossil fuel-infatuated BMW Art Car. At the crossroads of institutional critique, action painting, and happenings, there is a performativity of the gesture that is carefully thought through: a new protest sport that blurs art and life (or rather, extinction). Most of these actions took place at museums that safeguard a eurocentric history of art and, consequently, of how art and environmental history mutually inform each other.
Commenting from Paris, I haven’t read in the French media and art criticism microcosm, any reference to another striking militant gesture by Congolese activist Emery Mwazulu Diyabanza, who in 2020 attempted to liberate and exfiltrate a 19th ritual pole from Chad out of the Quai Branly museum. A French equivalent to the British Museum, Quai Branly is located a few steps away from the Eiffel tower, another symbol of European industrial power, and was chosen by Diyabanza and his partners for its emblematic role in the debate on colonial theft and the restitution of African heritage.
Putting these gestures in dialogue would have seemed obvious, but the refusal to make the connection is not really surprising. In the North, most white middle-class ecologists who can afford to get arrested, tend to reproduce the totalizing view of the Anthropocene human/nature binary that silences not only its continuous relation to slavery and imperialism but also the practices and resistance of people subjected to them in the South. Little is done, in environmental movements and media, to connect the race to save the Earth with the struggle to repair the scars of colonialism. Malcom Ferdinand has coined the concept of double fracture ― environmental and colonial ― of modernity, to discuss how such silencing reinforces imperialist domination on plural ways of inhabiting the world sustainably.
In the Report on the restitution of African cultural heritage, Bénédicte Savoy and Felwine Sarr argue that nothing can replace what has been unrooted and compensate for the colonizers’ crimes; however, restitution of artworks and artifacts can operate at a symbolic level to start fixing the relationship that was broken. Environmental repairing must face the racial premises of capitalist extraction and rethink the claim to a habitable planet through the radical lens of restitution.
As long as climate actions refer to the museum as a white affair, the possibility to interpret them remains stuck on one side of history. If, beyond the pragmatic imperatives of urgency and spectacle, these initiatives seek to engage more closely and consistently with anti-colonial activists who also use the museum as a site of expression and contestation, I believe we really have a chance to overcome history and open spaces where the restoration of planetary relationships can truly begin.
Domenico Vito, PhD engineer, works in European projects on air quality in Italy. He has been an observer of the Conferences of the Parties since 2015 - the year the Paris Agreement. Member of the Italian Society of Climate Sciences, he is active in various environmental networks and has been active participant in YOUNGO, the constituent of young people within the Framework Convention of Nations Unite.
Such forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement.
Climate activism is one of the most important ways to participate in climate action. Anyway, even climate activism can turn into a “misuse” of the power it has. I will be clear I will not agree with such a way to pursue climate activism even if I can deeply understand the feelings inside who made it.
Such forms of action, besides being wasteful and damaging —and climate change is not about waste but about regeneration — can be very counter-effective for the climate movement. If street demonstrations have raised attention and brought the public opinion in favour of tackling climate crises, hitting culture and historical heritage can indeed move people away from sustaining climate activism and in final climate action.
So, even if I feel the emotion of who is lead to such action, in general, I will not feel to support them. Anyway, I take them as a signal of the discomfort civil society has towards a lack of ambition in current planetary governance.
Every month we feature a Global Roundtable in which a group of people respond to a specific question in The Nature of Cities.
show/hide list of writers
Hover over a name to see an excerpt of their response…click on the name to see their full response.
Gloria Aponte, MedellínWhen something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
Katherine Berthon, MelbourneFor cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management.
Carmen Bouyer, ParisThis ethical code can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create images that convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems, and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive.
Paul Currie, Cape TownWhen joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern.
PK Das MumbaiCity planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. In Mumbai, the vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically.
Meredith Dobbie, VictoriaScientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. With scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible.
Casey Furlong, MelbourneWhile top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity.
Andrew Grant, BathIt is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing.
Gary Grant, London For general declarations, is best to avoid jargon, which many people will not be familiar with. Supporting texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
Juliana Landolfi de Carvalho, CuritibaI believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
Tom Liptan, PortlandIsn’t it strange: water is life, but most of us know so little. Understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships.
Sareh Moosavi, BrusselsIn the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
Harini Nagendra, BangaloreEthics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
Diane Pataki, Salt Lake CityMost American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. And as I write, my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
André Stephan, BrusselsIn the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
Peter Schoonmaker, PortlandThe case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic.
Naomi Tsur, JerusalemIt is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Mario Yanez, LisbonFor me, this ethical code is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
Naomi Tsur is Founder and Chair of the Israel Urban Forum, Chair of the Jerusalem Green Fund, Founder and Head of Green Pilgrim Jerusalem, and served a term as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, responsible for planning and the environment.
Following the Nature of Cities Summit in June 2019 in Paris, a group of us continued the discussion that began in the seed session “Greening Water-Scarce Cities.”
Diane Pataki, Peter Schoonmaker and Naomi Tsur, who had put together the session, were joined by Paul Currie and Mario Yanez in a series of cyber meetings, through which we have attempted to collate and synthesize the creative ideas that had been presented at the seed session into an ethical code for water. It is our hope that this can become a useful basis for diverse parties and institutions in their efforts to address the challenges of water in our current climate crisis, in which no area is unaffected by changing water patterns.
We asked David Maddox to enable us to present our initial document as a theme for a TNOC Round Table Discussion, and look forward to seeing your comments, criticism, and in general addenda and corrigenda.
You, our fellow contributors and readers of TNOC are the first to see this document. It can be used by all, of course, but it is our hope to present it in 2021 at the World Water Forum in Dakar.
It goes beyond the scope of cities, but can certainly be a basis for cities to develop policy, educational programs and infrastructure. The initial responses to the code have been provided by the participants in the seed session.
Naomi Tsur, Jerusalem
Mario Yanez, Lisbon
Diane Pataki, Salt Lake City
Peter Schoonmaker, Portland
Paul Currie, Cape Town
Roundtable question: Water is essential to life. For many it is inaccessible, while others take it for granted. We propose here a code for the ethical use of water in cities. What works? What doesn’t? Would you use this code to transform your city?
The ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities
After a workshop held at “The Nature of Cities Summit” (Paris 2019), a group of TNOC contributors committed to meeting regularly in order to establish an ethical basis for water use and management. This document is a preliminary draft of our understandings, hopefully a basis for many conversations and policy discussions as more and more stakeholders address the principles laid out. The document also represents a simple guide for ethical actions with regard to water.
Acknowledging that there have been many explorations of water ethics, this document sets out some succinct observations and ethical principles related to urban water use and management and offers considerations for ethical water actions.
Declaration
It is a universally accepted truth that:
Water is the basis for all life on earth
People and nature have a universal basic right to clean, safe water
Ecosystem functions provide a wide range of water-related services (to people and nature)
More than half of the world’s freshwater supply is currently allocated for human activities
Neither people nor nature are universally receiving their rights to water
While many experience water excess, many experience water scarcity
Climate crisis is changing hydrosocial cycles in fundamental ways
Almost all urban areas import water, with potential impacts on upstream and downstream ecosystems
All urban activities have an embodied water footprint
There exist many ecological, social and technical solutions to improve water access and management
The sourcing, treatment and distribution of water have energy and material implications, with wider environmental impacts
There is a conflict of interest between supply-driven business and the need to reduce consumption
Where water is privately controlled, there is risk of exclusion from water access
There is a mismatch between administrative boundaries and watershed areas
People are entitled to use water in manners which express their needs, cultures, values, and activities
People have an obligation to use water responsibly
All are responsible to protect and regenerate the integrity and functioning of water cycles
These obligations and responsibilities will only be fulfilled through the commitment and participation of National and Sub-National Governments, Civil Society, Academia, the Private Sector, Communities, Conveyors, and Individuals.
Commitment
I as a water user will commit to:
Understanding my local and global water cycles
Appreciating that natural fresh water is finite in global supply
Conserving water and using it mindfully
Being cognizant of and responsible for the upstream and downstream impacts of our actions
Reusing water multiple times whenever possible (cascading)
Reserving potable water for drinking and bathing
Preventing household pollutants from entering the water cycle
We, as water suppliers or conveyors, commit to all of the above, and also to:
Taking a watershed perspective
Educating ourselves, peers, residents, and children about how the water system works and our roles in it
Investing in consistent data collection, analysis and sharing
Investing in a hierarchy of water supply types, which allocates and cycles potable water, greywater, and blackwater appropriately (at multiple scales)
Preventing agricultural and industrial pollutants, and untreated wastewater from entering socio-ecosystems
Pricing water services effectively to incentivize stewardship while ensuring that the water system remains intact and that people’s basic needs are met
Operating in good faith when engaging with local communities
Participating in multi-stakeholder water governance processes
Contributing and adhering to water action plans and other policy instruments
We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to all of the above, and also to:
Enabling governance of water which ensures stewardship and regeneration
Ensuring that everyone has access to clean water for drinking and bathing
Ensuring that water management is not monopolized, nor driven primarily by economic gain
Preparing for climate crises by adopting resilience strategies and appropriate infrastructures
Mandating swift action in the face of impending water crises
Ensuring collection and open dissemination of information, data, and best practices for water management and stewardship
Facilitating and investing in creativity, innovation and experimentation for appropriate technologies, and regenerative infrastructures and practices
Developing and enforcing suitable water policies and action plans for every city through multi-stakeholder engagement
Managing conflicts in water provision
Ensuring that diverse socio-cultural values, needs and practices regarding water are acknowledged and accommodated.
Way Forward
Our manifesto! Inundated with ideas! Now you should join us!
As a working document, we invite colleagues to comment, add to, and embrace this ethical code for water, for presentation and adoption at the World Water Forum 2021 in Dakar, Senegal.
It’s universal, Water. Too much. Too little. But a right for all.
Would you like to join a global team that takes this forward? If so, please do leave a comment and email us at [email protected]
Not enough? Too much? Our water manifesto: Be responsible
Mario Yanez is dedicated to envisioning and inspiring a transition toward life-sustaining, regenerative human communities. As a whole-systems designer, he is working globally at various scales, implementing productive landscapes and ecosocial systems. As a scholar-practitioner, he is researching complexity and pathways toward cultivating wholeness in society and economy.
Diane Pataki is a Professor of Biological Sciences, an Adjunct Professor of City & Metropolitan Planning, and Associate Vice President for Research at the University of Utah. She studies the role of urban landscaping and forestry in the socioecology of cities.]
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
Paul Currie is a Director of the Urban Systems Unit at ICLEI Africa. He is a researcher of African urban resource and service systems, with interest in connecting quantitative analysis with storytelling and visual elicitation.
Gloria Aponte is a Colombian landscape architect who has been practicing for more than 30 years in design, planning and teaching. She lead her own firm, Ecotono Ltda., in Bogotá for 20 years. She led the Masters program in Landscape Design at Universidad Pontificia Bolivariana, in Medellín. She is a consultant and belongs to "Rastro Urbano" research group at Universidad de Ibagué, and also the Education Clúster at LALI (Latinamerican Landscape Initiative).
When something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
Paramos: Water Suppliers and Human Heritage
Talking about how the water system works, it is well known and understood that water flows in a cycle, which varies according with geographical and meteorological particularities of each place. Thus, the point where the water cycle meets the earth becomes quite important. How does land receive water? Through a pervious surface that is home for water? Or an impervious surface that tends to reject it? In the first case, slow release assures a balanced supply, while in the second storm water quick release will be the result.
One example of the first case are the so called paramos, a unique ecosystems located in the tropical area but on very high mountains between 3.000 and 4.500 m; mostly in the Andes in South America and Costa Rica. Paramos guarantee a very convenient water disposal equilibrium, regulating the water flow and avoiding soil erosion; they have been considered “water factories” because of the permanent disposal they provide. Additionally, their soils also have more capacity for fixing CO2 than soils of other ecosystems, which is an additional contribution to face the present global crisis of climate change.
There are just six areas in the world that have paramos ecosystems and half of them are located in Colombia. In this country there are 37 paramos areas, and those provide the 70% of the water supply for the population and activities. That is the reason why Colombia has been classified as one of the richest countries in water, counting with a very wide and abundant hydric net.
Belmira paramo, Colombia central mountain range. Photo: Julián Monsalve, Msc. In Landscape Design
Historically paramos were even revered by native pre-Columbian groups, that had a very close relationship whit nature and deeply respected it. Nevertheless, in last decades and mainly at present, paramos are menaced by agricultural and mining activities that increase progressively in their surroundings.
In the national context, paramos have been considered an important heritage but just in 2018 the law (Law 1930) to protect them was declared when it was visualized that climate change could make them disappear. The vegetation on Paramos ecosystems is quite outstanding and it becomes lower on higher altitude. The most representative is frailejon, that reaches up to ten meters high, growing only one centimeter per year.
Frailejon flower in Ruiz paramo, Colombian central mountain range Photo: Valentina Hidalgo, Msc. In Landscape design
The Colombian public ministry asked UNESCO to declare paramos a World Heritage, for the first time in 2017. The petition continues at present, in order to formalize that deserved designation. Last internal national movements about had taken place during pandemic time, in August and September 2020, to once again file the petition with UNESCO.
Paramos are the origin of the water we enjoy in cities, so we urban inhabitants must apply the Code of water, in order to guarantee the water cycle in best quality and assure that ourselves, peers, residents, and children contribute in that sense.
When something is scarce it becomes more valuable, and liability is proportional inverse to availability. As the naturalist George Schaller says: “we have to change our cultural relationship with the natural world”.
This ethical code can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create images that convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems, and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive.
The code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities gives a rich overview of water related issues. What I like is that it offers a structured way to commit to adopting an aware and responsible relationship with water on various levels: as an individual water user, as a business, as an organised civil society group, or as a government.
In my view, the points that are presented to structure this commitment could be boiled down a bit more and reorganised to be more easily legible. For instance, I would engage more easily with The declaration section that introduces the document if it was structured by themes: Water in general (1.)(2.)(5.), Climate (7.), Ecosystems (3.), People (4.)(11.)(6.)(15.)(12.)(13.)(14.), Urban issues (8.)(9.), Solutions/Obligations (10.)(16.)(17.)(18.).
In the Commitment section, I would also shuffle the numbers a bit. In the first part “I as a water user will commit to”, I would have the commitments listed in that order that feels more intuitive to me: Understand (1), Being conscious (4.), Appreciate (2,), Conserve (3.), Reuse (5.), Reserve (6.), Prevent (7.). And in the third part “We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to all of the above, and also to” I would organise the points in this order: Access to clean water (2.), Managing conflicts (9.), Governance of water (1.), Water management (3), Preparing for climate crises (4.)(5.), Water policies and actions plans in cities (8.), Open dissemination of information (6.) Ensuring diversity of water based socio-cultural ways (10.), Investing in innovation (7.)
Thinking of transforming my city, Paris, by using those guidelines I wouldn’t know where and how to start. As a citizen I feel I have very little access to policy making regarding water (except by electing representatives every other year) and so wouldn’t know to whom to address the Code here. A code that would have to be translated in French and accompanied by examples of actionable ways showing how those ideals can be applied locally.
But even though I am not in a position where I can directly transform my city regarding water ethics, I can commit to the code as an individual water user and I can support that movement forward and raise awareness through my artistic practices. This ethical code for water can absolutely be applied to an art practice. It asks creatives to create symbols, images and experiences that can convey a strong ethic regarding water, ecosystems and people, creating ways to sense and respect the presence, wisdom and value of water everywhere. It asks artists to use materials that are fully non toxic, not polluting the waterways, and non-water intensive. To do so in a radically honest way would totally change the way art looks and feels in my country.
Photo collage by Carmen Bouyer, extract from tnoc ethical code for water and photographs of the Seine river in Paris, 2020.
P.K. Das is popularly known as an Architect-Activist. With an extremely strong emphasis on participatory planning, he hopes to integrate architecture and democracy to bring about desired social changes in the country.
City planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. In Mumbai, the vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically.
Let’s Demolish These Concrete Walls
There is urgent need for the recognition of all the natural and environmental conditions and their mapping through a well-planned participatory program. An open mapping and database are fundamental to an understanding of the natural resources and their sharing– an imminent objective of sustainability. Further, the democratization of planning is a significant step too in the struggle for rejuvenation and revitalization of all the natural assets and areas, indeed of water, waterbodies and watercourses, for the successful achievement of the very objective of sustainable urban development.
Historically, the waterbodies and watercourses, including rivers across Indian cities have been turned into sewer and sloid waste disposal channels. Most watercourses have been formalized by governments as sewage channels by constructing impervious concrete walls along both edges in order to “contain the filth” and to gain land through landfilling the wetlands in order to promote real estate interest. In many instances, the beds of the watercourses have been concretized too. As a result, the symbiotic relationship that exist between water and land are severed. Also, water and the surrounding land are starved of their nourishment and severed of the multitude of ecological services that that they both individually and together provide. Such rampant destruction of nature and the natural conditions have led to an alarming state of unsustainable urban development with devastating floods and submergence of vast areas– being just one of the many threats that we increasingly experience in cities world over, including India.
City planners all along have refused to recognize the need and importance of building with nature, including integrating natural areas in the development plans. The vast stretches of watercourses, waterfronts, creeks, wetlands, mangroves, natural flora and fauna, coastal edges, hills and forests are excluded and being treated as dumping grounds, both physically and metaphorically. Governments and planners are affected by a build-more syndrome. A syndrome that has been systematically promoted and inflicted under the principles of privatization and the free- market oriented development that is built upon just one objective, i.e. to fast track financial turnover and profit at any cost through private initiative– reflected in the ruthlessness of capital markets and the development ventures that is increasingly colonizing public assets, including attacks on the natural areas through indiscriminate landfilling. Governments behave the same way by directly undertaking landfilling works or legitimizing the effort by private agencies. Over the years, we have failed to evolve methods for evaluating environmental values and its benefits as being an integral aspect of development economy.
Under such dominant socio-political climate, people’s understanding of nature and the environment and their resolve to strengthen movements that would put pressures on their government on decisions pertaining to conservation, restoration and integration of the natural assets are marred. Therefore, struggles for the achievement of a sustainable development rooted in the idea of build-with-nature has to be popularized through concerted campaigns. Importantly, the socio-environmental movements would also have to collectively with other democratic rights movements plan and implement or facilitate the implementation of projects that demonstrate their multiple benefits and through that process gain experience in strengthening their movements. The idea of expanding public open spaces that include the integration of natural areas as an idea of open spaces could be one objective example. This is one effective means through which people will relate to the natural assets, including water and the watercourses. Such projects would inevitably include undoing many works that have been implemented over the years, including demolition of the concrete walls built along waterbodies, watercourses and the coastline.
Meredith Dobbie is a landscape architect and research fellow at Monash University. Her research interests revolve around urban nature, landscape aesthetics and sustainable landscape design.
Scientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. With scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible.
Australia has been at the forefront in acknowledging the importance of integrated urban water management and different water sources for fit-for-purpose use. Water sensitive urban design, including stormwater harvesting, treatment and reuse, is now recognised at all levels of government as essential for sustainable and liveable cities, although its implementation is still somewhat ad hoc. In Victoria, where I live, the Eastern Treatment Plant was constructed in south-eastern Melbourne in 1975 for treatment of sewage. Some of the treated wastewater is recycled for use in nearby suburbs for irrigation and other external uses. Many households have rainwater tanks, which are plumbed in to their houses for use in the laundry and for flushing toilets. However, treated wastewater is not yet used for drinking anywhere in Australia. A referendum was held in Toowoomba, Queensland in 2006, to use treated wastewater for drinking but it was defeated after a very effective, and emotive, campaign by those against the proposal. In Western Australia, though, treated wastewater is used to recharge groundwater aquifers, which provide water to Perth. It is evident that practice still lags behind policy. It is also evident from the draft code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities that personal practice, or behaviours, of water users must change (code items 3, 5, 6 and 7 in the commitment for water users). This can only occur with increased scientific literacy, which code items 1, 2 and 4 in the water user commitment presume.
Scientific literacy is recognised as essential for full participation in society and preparation for life-long learning. Without it, water users are less likely to understand the water cycle and all its consequences for sustainable, and ethical, urban water use and management. Scientific literacy should include both knowledge about science and knowledge of science. Worryingly, it is decreasing in Australia amongst school students and adults. In 2018, Programme for International Student Assessment (PISA) testing showed that scientific literacy of Australian 15-year old students ranked 13th among 78 OECD countries, with six other countries at the same level (Should Australia worry about drop in PISA rankings?). Australia’s ranking has been declining since 2009. Using a survey based on one developed by the California Academy of Science, the Australian Academy of Science in 2013 reported that scientific literacy among Australian adults had also declined since an earlier test in 2010 (Science Literacy Report 2013). Most Australians had a basic grasp of key scientific concepts but, as an example of water-related knowledge, only 9% of respondents knew that 3% of the earth’s water was fresh. This percentage had declined from 12% in 2010. Generally, younger respondents, men and those with higher education were more likely to answer questions correctly. Worryingly, knowledge levels had dropped the most in young people.
Declining scientific literacy has attracted commentary about school curriculum content and how science is taught. Especially important is to engage primary school students more with science, and to ensure that those students who are interested in science can relate what they are taught in school to their own lives (Science curriculum needs to do more to engage primary school students; Science literacy is a crucial skill). The Australian Curriculum emphasizes the importance of scientific literacy in practice. This will be critical to enabling Australians to observe the code for the ethical basis for water rights and obligations in cities.
Changing behaviour is a greater challenge than ensuring scientific literacy, I think. Behaviour change can be in response to regulations or it can be voluntary. A regulatory approach might involve price increases to reduce water consumption. This approach, though, does raise issues for a code concerned with ethical water rights and obligations. Certainly, higher prices disadvantage those with lower incomes, which is hardly ethical. Voluntary behaviour change is preferable. There are many influences on voluntary behaviour change (Guide to promoting water sensitive behaviour), including awareness, skills and knowledge, costs versus benefits (e.g. financial, physical, emotional, mental), social norms and personal values, emotions, cognitive biases, and contextual factors (e.g. availability of alternative water sources). These all demand our attention if we aspire to change peoples’ behaviour in line with the draft code. However, they can be considered as nested, i.e. awareness, skills and knowledge, personal values, emotions and cognitive biases are personal attributes, which are likely to influence assessments of costs versus benefits and influence responses to social norms (although they help establish them) and contextual factors.
Scientific literacy can contribute awareness, skills and knowledge that support the code, thereby promoting behaviour change. Such knowledge can also help shape personal values. What then of emotions and cognitive biases? What can we do to manage these to facilitate behaviour change?
Cognitive biases are assumptions and (mis)perceptions that people have, which can influence behaviour or affect responses to new information. People are inclined to compare new information with what they already believe and to discard the new information if inconsistent with the old. It can be hard to convince people that new information is correct.
An example relevant to the water code is the Yuck factor. This is an immediate emotional response of disgust to the notion of drinking recycled water, associated with the perceived dirtiness of the water and a fear of contamination (Psychological_aspects_of_rejection_of_recycled_water). Opponents of recycled wastewater in Toowoomba used the Yuck factor in their campaign in 2006 to great effect. There is some debate whether emotional responses precede or follow cognitive responses, i.e. whether we feel before we think or think before we feel when we experience, or even consider, something and express a preference (Feeling and thinking). The idea of feeling before thinking makes sense to me. And here lies the potential for behaviour change consistent with the code, especially problematic item 5. People might initially dislike the idea of reusing treated wastewater, but with scientific literacy, thinking can override feeling, so that recycling water can become acceptable.
I believe that, with scientific literacy and programs supporting behaviour change, implementation of the code by water users is possible. I look forward to seeing how the code develops further to become a document that inspires and supports the ethical use of water for the benefit of all.
Gary Grant is a Chartered Environmentalist, Fellow of the Institute of Ecology and Environmental Management, Fellow of the Leeds Sustainability Institute, and Thesis Supervisor at the Bartlett Faculty of the Built Environment, University College London. He is Director of the Green Infrastructure Consultancy (http://greeninfrastructureconsultancy.com/).
For general declarations, is best to avoid jargon, which many people will not be familiar with. Supporting texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
I’m sure that the draft code is a good summary of the discussions of the Paris workshop in 2019, however further condensation would make adoption by cities and organisations more likely. For general declarations, is also better to avoid jargon, which is too frequent in the draft and which many people will not be familiar with. In terms of explanation and detail, especially for specialists, a supporting text or texts could address that, as well as city-level or catchment-level interpretations, which might relate to the most pressing threats, local governance, cultural differences or economic practices.
I suggest something like:
Declaration
Human activities are responsible for the use of most of the Earth’s freshwater, which is finite
Whilst some people have more than enough clean freshwater, many others do not
Current patterns of consumption and management of clean freshwater have damaging effects on the natural environment and cannot be sustained, a problem that is being exacerbated by climate change
For civilization to persist and thrive and nature to be restored, we must all change the ways that we consume and manage clean freshwater
Commitments
As a consumer of clean water, I commit to:
Learning about the water cycle and its role in nature
Using water carefully and mindfully
Not wasting or polluting water
We, as water suppliers, commit to working in constructive partnership with citizens and governments to:
Increase everyone’s knowledge of the water cycle
Improve the measurement of water consumption and impacts on nature and sharing that information with everyone
Invest in appropriate techniques that clean, conserve and recycle water
Prevent pollutants and untreated wastewater from entering the environment
Adopt pricing arrangements that ensure resilience and good stewardship whilst meeting the basic needs of all
We, as government, business and civil society at all levels, commit to:
Governance of water supply and management which is mindful of this Code
Swift and appropriate action in the face of the related global crises of water scarcity, climate change and biodiversity loss
Ensuring that everyone has access to clean water for drinking and bathing and that cultural and individual diversity is respected
Ensuring that water management is not driven primarily for financial gain
Ensuring collection and open dissemination of information and promotion of research, innovation and good practice
Adopting and implementing appropriate policies, strategies and plans with, and for, everyone
Andrew formed Grant Associates in 1997 to explore the emerging frontiers of landscape architecture within sustainable development. He has a fascination with creative ecology and the promotion of quality and innovation in landscape design. Each of his projects responds to the place, its inherent ecology and its people.
It is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing.
“Water is the driving force of all nature.
—Leonardo da Vinci
If there is to be an ethical code for water in cities it must not be just human focussed. Yes, at the most basic level it is important that all humanity has equitable and appropriate access to clean and healthy freshwater to sustain our life. However, there must be a mechanism to balance our human urban water needs with those of all other life forms. In extremis could we survive as a species if we used all the available freshwater at the expense of every other flora and fauna species in the city? Imagine having a belly full of water looking out across a desert city with no trees , no animation from birds and insects, no scent from flowers and no sounds from barking dogs and howling monkeys.
It is interesting that we immediately structure our approach to urban water ethics around water specific awareness, governance, and technologies rather than placing it into a debate about our wider human life support needs for air, water, food and sensory wellbeing. How should we share freshwater across species that sustains all life in an equitable way but which ensures all of our human needs are met?
Another theme is how water shapes the identity of cities in different ways in different part of the world. My home city is Bath in the UK, named Aquae Sulis by the Romans, is a city built on and from its water. The hot springs that emerge at the heart of the city fell as rain over 10,000 years ago on the hills many miles away and continue to give life to the identity of our city and its reputation as a therapeutic refuge. The surrounding landscape is alive with natural springs and the river Avon itself has carved out the distinctive natural topography of the valleys that create the setting for this UNESCO World Heritage Site. The point is this water based identity is an identity borrowed from times past. If we have an ethical approach to water in cities should we also consider the legacy for the future and not diminish the cultural and natural heritage that we have inherited.
Juliana Wilse Landolfi Teixeira de Carvalho is a PhD research student in Hydrogeomorphology Laboratory, Department of Geography, Federal University of Paraná. Curitiba / Brazil.Researcher on nature-based solutions for urban drainage, Urban Hydrology, hydraulic and hydrological modeling.
I believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
Urbanization is a global phenomenon that is growing significantly in Latin America, Africa, and Asia, bringing with it impacts in different spheres and scales. Many of these impacts are verified in the urban hydrological dynamics and water management. Climate change associated with the growth prospect of urban areas brings up even more significant challenges related to these impacts. Changes in climate dynamics can lead to variations in the temperature or rainfall regime, shifts in frequency and intensity of extreme rainfall events, thus, enhancing the hazard of floods, droughts, storms, and its social and environmental impacts (IPCC 2018).
Currently, about 55% of the world population lives in urban areas. UN-Habitat (2016) estimated that by 2050, the world population must reach ten billion, with around 70% of the world population living in cities. It is exceptionally alarming when merged with the UNESCO Water Report (2018), which states that by the year 2050, about 5 billion people will suffer from water scarcity at some level. Furthermore, the number of people at risk of flooding should increase from the current 1.2 billion to 1.6 billion, given that the urban population will be the most affected by these extreme weather events. These risks depend on the magnitude and rate of warming, geographic location, vulnerability, and the choices and implementation of adaptation and mitigation options.
In the urban environment context, it is essential to consider that cities are built on watersheds, and, therefore, the urban space configuration can affect the urban water cycle dynamics, changing the rates of water balance components, decreasing water security, and intensifying drought and flood risk.
Face to the urban growth, associated with climate change scenarios and water management challenges, the “code for the ethical use of water in the cities” is urgent and necessary, especially in the poorest countries, where social inequality increases, territory management, and urban planning are shallow, and population awareness has not been a priority.
The eighteen basic principles listed in the code are consistent and realistic, recognizing that the universal right to clean and safe water is not being ensured to everyone. It covers climate change scenarios, upstream and downstream impacts of urban water systems; water private control as the risk of exclusion from water access; the necessity of watershed management; collective responsibility for water use, and collaboration among different entities in society to achieve stipulated objectives.
I believe that the key point of the “Commitment for Users” item is the emphasis on understanding the water cycle systematicity, with questions such as: Where does the water that I consume in my house come from? Where does it go to? What are the impacts of my water use on the environment? How can I reduce them? What shifts about consumption patterns can I take to reduce my impact?
The “Commitment for water suppliers, government, and business” are also consistent. I suggest adding an item about “investing in research about improving urban water management (water security, universal access to water, rainwater use, wastewater treatment and reuse, decreasing impacts on ecosystems; benefits of greening cities for risk management, Nature-based Solutions for water management).
There would be many benefits if this code were applied in my city. I live in Curitiba, the capital of the State of Paraná, southern Brazil. It is a densely urbanized city, whose metropolitan complex has more than 3 million inhabitants. The city suffers from several issues related to water management: urban flooding, water scarcity, water pollution, denaturalization of rivers and hydrological processes.
Currently, we suffer the most severe drought recorded in the last 100 years. With rainfall below the historical average, the level of our reservoirs reached less than 30%. The drought’s result is a severe rotation of water supply, which, unfortunately, disadvantages the poorer classes. In the pandemic context, where there is a recommendation to wash hands several times a day, thousands of citizens often suffer from water scarcity.
I understand that the application of this Code for the Ethical Use of Water in Cities could set up a different scenario from that we currently experience on water management during this drought period in my region. We could also have different scenarios related to urban floods that are recurrent every year, causing numerous demages to the population and the and public management.
References
IPCC, 2018: Summary for Policymakers. In: Global warming of 1.5°C. An IPCC Special Report on the impacts of global warming of 1.5°C above pre-industrial levels and related global greenhouse gas emission pathways, in the context of strengthening the global response to the threat of climate change, sustainable development, and efforts to eradicate poverty [V. Masson-Delmotte, P. Zhai, H. O. Pörtner, D. Roberts, J. Skea, P.R. Shukla, A. Pirani, W. Moufouma-Okia, C. Péan, R. Pidcock, S. Connors, J. B. R. Matthews, Y. Chen, X. Zhou, M. I. Gomis, E. Lonnoy, T. Maycock, M. Tignor, T. Waterfield (eds.)]. In Press.
UNESCO. 2018. The United Nations World Water Development Report 2018: Nature-based Solutions for Water. Paris, UNESCO.
Un-Habitat. 2016. World Cities Report 2016: Urbanization and development, emerging futures. United Nations Human Settlements Programme. https://www.unhabitat.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/WCR-%20Full-Report-2016.pdf
Tom Liptan is a registered landscape architect and a retired environmental specialist for the City of Portland Bureau of Environmental Services. Liptan has assisted numerous municipalities, developers, consultants, multi-state corporations and government agencies with acceptance of ecoroofs and other landscape approaches used for stormwater management and healthy city development. His leadership on ecoroofs and green streets has also had an international impact. He has lectured and published widely, and is the author of the 2017 book Sustainable Stormwater Management.
Isn’t it strange: water is life, but most of us know so little. Understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships.
The timing on this couldn’t be better. I’m currently applying to be on the Portland public utilities board, interview scheduled for 2 November. The board covers city water supply, stormwater and wastewater management. There are two separate bureaus; Water, and Environmental Services (BES) where I worked for 26 years. As you may be aware, I wrote a book about my 40 years of experience with primarily stormwater/drainage management. I touched on drinking water in a few places but my expertise is stormwater and natural waters. Although I know some about drinking water, I’ve found myself on a new learning curve.
So the first commitment is a good starting point: “1. Understanding my local and global water cycles.” I am a retired water management professional, what do I really know. Here are some randomly related thoughts.
My water purveyor is the city of Portland. From 1850-1895 the city used water from the local river until it became obvious that it was being uncontrolably polluted. This water source was unsustainable based on the known technologies to filter water at the time. So in 1895 the city purchased land in the nearby mountains, not the large snow covered Mt Hood, but the rain drenched watershed of Bull Run. Two dams were built which created two reservoirs and all water could be transported to Portland via gravity and a small amount of electricity is produced in the process. However, the west side of town is up hill so the entire westside must have water pumped up hill from the eastside.
This is just the tip of the Portland water story—A 100 year struggle ensued to protect the forest from logging, it was recently successfully concluded with the US Forest Service. Sometime in 1960-70s the city decided to back up its almost pristine supply with another source, groundwater. This was smart but unbeknownst to the city would be fraught with challenges. For example several years after developing the wells the city planners designated the zoning for industrial uses. The water bureau freaked out and groundwater pollution prevention codes were hastily adopted vs. changing the zoning. In the 1980-2000 a project was required by state law to remove 50,000 cesspools and replace them with a conventional sanitary pipe system at a cost to property owners of $10,000-20,000 each property. This was required to eliminate the risk to groundwater and the bureau required to implement the requirements was BES. Interestingly, in a recent conversation with a water bureau employee, he had no knowledge that this project ever happened. Once something like that is done and 20 years go by I guess it’s easily forgotten.
More recently, the state required BES to determine if its use of sumps for stormwater management might pose a risk to ground water. The person at WB didn’t know about this either. He was a little concerned when I shared what I know of the results. There are 10,000 sumps in the area of concern above the aquifer. Based on what they found the sumps won’t be removed.
It points out to me that understanding my local water cycle related to my drinking water system is quite complex, let alone the global cycles, so as a commitment I think local is of primary concern. Also understanding how our actions might or do affect other people’s water would be a part of local to local relationships. Isn’t it so strange, water is life, but most of us know so little.
Something about else about water, which I didn’t see in the code: Water is an elusive reality, both good and absolutely essential, yet how astounding that it can/does take on such huge physical dimensions and energy to cause death and destruction. From a tiny drop to an enormous tsunami.
One thing for sure, at least for me, is that the code is very thought provoking. I very much appreciate your invitation.
Harini Nagendra is a Professor of Sustainability at Azim Premji University, Bangalore, India. She uses social and ecological approaches to examine the factors shaping the sustainability of forests and cities in the south Asian context. Her books include “Cities and Canopies: Trees of Indian Cities” and "Shades of Blue: Connecting the Drops in India's Cities" (Penguin India, 2023) (with Seema Mundoli), and “The Bangalore Detectives Club” historical mystery series set in 1920s colonial India.
Ethics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
All too often, we forget that sustainability is at its core a normative issue, a question of morals, ethics and norms of good conduct. An Ethical Code for Water is much needed, and serves to remind us of this all-important fact.
Could I think of using this Code in practice to transform my city? I speak of the city of Bangalore, one of India’s largest and fastest growing cities, fueled by the IT boom, and running out of water. Located in a semi-dry environment, without access to a large river or any perennial sources of fresh water, Bangalore depends on a range of unreliable sources for its water supply, including water on tap from the drying, distant Cauvery river, depleting ground water mined from local borewells and supplied in tankers, and open wells and tanks fed by a mix of rainwater, sewage and industrial effluents. Summer headlines regularly warn that Bangalore is about to become the next Cape Town, running out of water soon—yet somehow the city lurches past another almost-drought year, and towards the next, without very much changing on the ground.
If we could get the various actors that are part of driving water use in Bangalore—the municipality, Government sewage and water supply board, water tanker groups, industries and companies that use large quantities of water, academics, civil society, and other relevant groups—to sign on to a water manifesto, this would be an excellent one. The basic tenets—of equity, sustainability, respecting limits to growth, vulnerability and resilience—are all in place. Yet there are a number of challenges with creating an ethical code that works in practice. First of course, in contexts such as Indian cities, where different groups access water, from diverse religious, cultural and economic backgrounds, values can bring people together to forge a common shared understanding—but a clash in values can also engender conflict. Water wars have taken place within countries and communities as well across different borders and diverse groups. The ethical water code, while identifying important sources of conflict such as the clash of interests between supply-driven business and the demands of reducing frivolous consumption, does not speak of differences in cultural and religious perspectives. Indeed it would be difficult to do so in a code that intends to work across contexts: such a code would need to be easy to accept both in societies where norms of water use are strongly driven by religion and culture, as well as societies where norms are driven by considerations of capital, and a host of other contexts. Yet in making the considerations of ethics broad enough to be accepted by all, there lies a challenge for places where customary laws are largely in force, but being challenged by new values emerging with “modernity”.
Ultimately, while codes lay out a desired goal and endpoint, they cannot in themselves specify the process by which we intend to reach such goals. Ideally, an ethical water code could help outline some useful signposts that can guide us towards the right path or set of possible paths. One such signpost, identified by many scholars and practitioners, is the need for polycentricity, or the presence of multiple levels and levers of governance. The ethical water code recognizes such a need. It identifies the need for multi-stakeholder engagement, specifically pointing to governments at multiple levels, civil society, academia, industry, communities, and individuals. A second signpost or metric is that of justice: the ethical code keeps this recognition at its core, fundamentally asking for people and nature to receive their due rights to water.
A third signpost, more difficult to accommodate in an all-encompassing water code, is the need to make place for diverse water imaginations. Across the Indian state of Karnataka, rural and peri-urban communities get together to sing songs to the God of the monsoon, Maleraya, asking him to pour down on them—not alone, but with his family in tow. Maleraya, in turn, will not respond until the 7 rulers of 7 villages get together, cook a communal meal, sit together for a bit, stand together for a while, and then ask him to rain down—he does not respond to individual requests, only collective ones. He does not respond as an individual, but as a member of a community, a family of rain gods in the sky. As the city urbanizes, and the songs of Maleraya fade from our collective memory, we lose a core ethic—of water as a community resource, governed by a communitarian ethic.
Ethics and norms grow in the well fertilized water of imagination and culture. Keeping space for a diversity of imaginations to flourish in close proximity will be essential if we are to make the water code work in practice. The challenge will be to do this in a way that works across locations, cultures and imaginations.
Naomi Tsur is Founder and Chair of the Israel Urban Forum, Chair of the Jerusalem Green Fund, Founder and Head of Green Pilgrim Jerusalem, and served a term as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, responsible for planning and the environment.
It is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Water Must Never be Taken for Granted
Water is the second most essential need for living creatures. Without air, we can survive for only a few minutes. Without water, we may last one or two days. Without food, the third essential, we can survive for much longer. I am not sure that we give water the respect it deserves, nor do we pay enough attention to the suffering caused in many parts of the world either by a lack or an excess of water. That is why I was more than pleased to be a member of the team that got together after the workshop on water-scarce cities that was held at the TNOC Summit in June 2020 in Paris. We all felt that the importance of water is such that there is a need to examine it from an ethical viewpoint. This feeling was strengthened for me by my own urban experience in Israel.
My city, Jerusalem, has been at the center of conflict from the time it was wrested from the Jebusite tribe by King David, some three thousand years ago. Situated high in the Judean Hills, from the very first the major challenge was to gain access to a reliable water supply. It was only in the reign of King Hezekiah that a channel was carved, granting access to the Siloam Spring from within the walls of the city. On the west side of Jerusalem, well beyond the city walls, natural springs provided water for the terraced agriculture of the Jerusalem hills. The terraces enabled retention of water, and in turn the sustenance of crops suited to the hilly terrain.
Until the middle of the nineteenth century, the whole city was contained within the famous walls built by Suleiman the Magnificent four hundred years earlier. One feature of Ottoman Jerusalem was the beautifully sculpted water fountains placed in different sections of the city, providing free clean water for residents and visitors alike.
Water has always been part of the story of Jerusalem, in an arid part of the world, with no rain for seven months of the year. When the city began to expand beyond Suleiman’s walls, no building, public or private, was built without adequate rainwater cisterns. These cisterns were what enabled the residents of Jerusalem to get through the siege in 1948, just as their ancestors had survived seven months of siege by the Romans two thousand years before.
Modern day Jerusalem is home to some 900,000 residents, and can no longer rely on cisterns and springs for all its needs. A new major water pipe carries desalinated water from the Mediterranean to the city. At least three quarters of Jerusalem’s sewage receives advanced treatment and is used for agriculture, as well as providing water for the city’s public parks and gardens.
An important challenge for Jerusalem is finding beneficial ways to use run-off from the rainy season. The steep hilly topography results in most of Jerusalem’s precipitation running down to the Mediterranean on the west side, and to the Dead Sea on the east side of the city. We are told that the amount of rainfall in the five wet months is the equivalent of about three quarters of the city’s total water needs. However, not only is it largely wasted, but it is also a major pollutant of groundwater, since it collects dirt and refuse before flowing down to the aquifer. In one major city initiative, the Gazelle Valley Park, a series of natural pools filters and cleans about one quarter of Jerusalem’s rainfall. We are used to the concept of a “green lung”, but this nature park has resulted in a new urban anatomical term, “a green kidney”.
In collaboration with the Jerusalem Municipality, a special team of municipal experts and civil society has been established, the Jerusalem Water Forum, which is a water policy think tank for the city. It is proving to be a very useful arena for sharing ideas, and for promoting better water management in the city.
It is often said that major conflicts of the future will be about water. The challenge for all of us is surely to make water a force for better and more ethical human behavior.
Diane Pataki is a Professor of Biological Sciences, an Adjunct Professor of City & Metropolitan Planning, and Associate Vice President for Research at the University of Utah. She studies the role of urban landscaping and forestry in the socioecology of cities.]
Most American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. And as I write, my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
Living in dry cities of the arid American West, I’ve been fascinated with the apparent paradox of urban greening in the desert. How much water can we allocate to keep cities green as more extreme droughts threaten our drinking water supply? Are urban forests and gardens possible in a hotter and drier world? Will cities in arid regions be sustainable at all?
I started my career studying the water needs of natural and plantation forests in the eastern part of the U.S., where rainfall is relatively abundant. When I moved to the western deserts, I worried that that the water requirements of urban trees and gardens were on track to outstrip the dwindling water supply of cities like Las Vegas, Los Angeles, and Salt Lake City. I started a research lab to study the water demand of urban trees and landscapes, hoping to find solutions to problem of greening cities in the face of severe water shortages.
Over the years I’ve found that with one glaring exceptions (lawns), many cherished urban landscape trees and other plants require much less water than expected. Unfortunately, many American homeowners greatly over-water their landscapes. The history of water, land use, and governance in the United States has led to perverse incentives to over-irrigate, even in the face of drought. Water is often cheap, especially for the wealthy, leading to growing inequities and injustices in the costs and benefits of accessing and using water.
The American West, and many other regions around the world, continue to get hotter, drier, and more unsustainable. But our use of water, and more importantly our relationship with water, is not changing very quickly, if at all. Over irrigation is still everywhere, and most American cities still fail to capture and recycle sustainable sources of water. Yet as I write my city is filled with smoke from massive wildfires of unprecedented magnitude. It has never been more apparent that people, landscapes, and water are all interrelated, and we will suffer or succeed together.
It’s been a privilege to talk with Naomi, Peter, Paul, and Mario about the ethical dimensions of the predicament in which we now find ourselves. What is the right thing to do with respect to water and all of the living systems on earth that depend on it? I hope you will find this dialogue intriguing, and I look forward to hearing many more voices and perspectives about our ethical obligations toward water, the land, and each other.
Peter Schoonmaker leads the outdoor education program at American Community School Beirut, and is president of Illahee, a non-profit organization focused on designing new models for cooperative environmental/social/economic problem solving.
The case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic.
Think back to all the cities and other places you have considered “home” throughout your life. Go ahead, stop reading this short essay—take thirty seconds or so right now—and wander back through childhood, adolescence, university, early career, and so on, up to now.
Tell me, did water figure prominently or specifically in your memories? Did water quantity, quality, availability, cost —or any other attributes—come to mind?
Me neither. Even though I spent part of my childhood in water-scarce southern California, and late teens / early twenties building an irrigation system. Lived in a temperate rainforest. And later spent a few years in one of the driest deserts in the world, where acquiring and rationing water was a daily activity. Where you packed 40 to 50 pounds of water (you measure it in pounds when it’s on your back) into remote study sites.
Maybe it’s different if your survival—your business, your farm, your family budget—is acutely (like, life and death) affected by water. Even then, it’s likely many of us think of things other than water when we think of home.
Now I think about water all the time, wherever I go, but that’s a professional hazard as an ecologist interested in policy and civic design. Travelling from Portland, Oregon’s abundant water sources and ample distribution system to Dubai’s obligate desalinated / bottled water system is a shock. Then there are the ground-water dependent systems scattered throughout most rural areas in the western United States and indeed the world.
The point is, most of us take water for granted. Other people provide it, for a price, and water drains away after we’re done with it. Water rises to our attention only when there’s too little or too much. And then, when our need is addressed, it’s on to other things.
The case for an “ethical code for water” would be hard to make if water were universally unlimited, like air (before pollution) or starry nights (before cities). It’s the limitation, or excess, that demands an ethic. Five of us have hammered out a draft of an ethical code for water. Five people with various water experiences and memories. Perhaps some of my colleagues have known water deprivation as both a daily and life-long existential threat. I never have. My experience is limited. The five of us—our experience is limited.
We need to comb through this document with more experience; to hear from people who have known acute water deprivation and oversupply, high costs and “too cheap to meter,” water as a daily focus and an after-thought, water at the center of their lived memory and water as a policy object. A water ethics that works for billions of people and the ecosystems they inhabit has to start somewhere. Maybe it starts with our memories of water. Take another thirty seconds.
Mario Yanez is dedicated to envisioning and inspiring a transition toward life-sustaining, regenerative human communities. As a whole-systems designer, he is working globally at various scales, implementing productive landscapes and ecosocial systems. As a scholar-practitioner, he is researching complexity and pathways toward cultivating wholeness in society and economy.
For me, this ethical code is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
I am water. Every cell of my body contains water. It’s an odd thought, but it’s said that we are walking bags of water—an ocean within. Perhaps it’s more accurate to imagine ourselves as body-scale watersheds with life-giving waters continually cycling through—fractals of a larger whole making our way through the various terrains of our daily lives.
My terrain at moment is Lisbon. A beautiful, mostly ancient City. I recently learned that many smaller rivers snake their way through the city’s undulating hills eventually finding their path to the Tagus river, as it too makes its way toward the Atlantic Ocean. You can’t see these rivers anymore, but I’m told they still flow under the streets. When I take long walks down towards the Tagus I imagine them flowing under me.
It’s too easy take for granted that I can turn on my tap and water streams out. On one of my walks a few days ago, a friend pointed out some remnants of the old Roman aqueduct that used to run through the city. It’s amazing how much effort and energy is spent creating infrastructure—artificial rivers—in our cities to bring freshwater in and deal with or dispose of “waste” water. It’s clear we are not doing all this so gracefully—measured by the degree we expend energy and apply technology to replace services freely given by ecosystems.
As one steeped in ecology, I know intuitively that at the right scale it is possible to participate regeneratively, to repair our water cycles and reverse desertification. But, what is the right scale? Many of our cities started as small settlements strategically placed along rivers or other bodies of water. They have rapidly outgrown the ability to participate gracefully within their watersheds—taking too much water out of circulation, transforming it in ways that make it useable again. Cities, by definition, tend to overrun the local ecosystems that once sustained them—then they go global.
These thoughts are very present with me as some friends and I are working towards establishing an intentional community 40 minutes north of Lisbon. I am leading the overall design of the 46-hectare site. It is beautiful land, a pleasant topography of clay-laden soils with several patches of healthy forest on it. There are no rivers on it, a few naturally-occurring springs, although when it rains a fair amount of water runs through it. I think a lot about the effort we’ll go through to regenerate the productive capacity of the site, to prepare the site for 100 or so families who will participate in the water cycle there. I try to imagine us harvesting, storing, using and reintegrating water as part of living there, growing food and satisfying other material needs.
Water is life. One could say water is food is life. This notion becomes obvious to me sometimes as I work out how to keep produce alive when I bring it home from the market. I try to find the right balance of internal moisture. I bag the carrots so they remain crisp, set the bouquet of parsley in a glass of water with a bag over it, cut up and freeze peppers, and keep onions and tubers dry and well ventilated. Too much water and things rot. Too little water and they dry out. This is true for cells, organisms, cities, and bioregions.
All this to say that I instinctively came to the session on water scarcity and recognized that I wasn’t alone in wanting to create a world of freshwater abundance—in other words, a living world. For me, this ethical code we have drafted is a plea for life. For my own rivers inside and those that run beneath my feet. For those that run freely further afield, and for the ones that move through the air and rain down elsewhere that eventually make their way back to me.
Paul Currie is a Director of the Urban Systems Unit at ICLEI Africa. He is a researcher of African urban resource and service systems, with interest in connecting quantitative analysis with storytelling and visual elicitation.
When joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern.
What is your first memory of water?
When asking this to groups of students or workshop participants, the answers have been some of the most poignant. Everyone and everything on the plant touches water. It is the substance that connects us all, and illuminates easily our different histories, geographies and life experiences. These memories of first baths, puddle jumping in the rain, drinking from a plastic bottle, being cleaned with a cloth, noticing water’s taste for the first time, floating on lakes, splashing in rivers, or seeking hidden resources, show how water is tied to our emotions and relationships.
In this way, resources of water, food, energy, materials are entwined with who we are and how we engage the world. They are not simply enablers, technical infrastructures or disconnected flows, but have strong socio-political resonance. I use these resource flows as a lens for urban sustainability, with particular attention paid to equity of access and quality of the resource.
When joining The Nature of Cities Summit session on Greening Water Stressed Cities, we were one year past the worst drought Cape Town had experienced. I was intrigued that the water crisis was as much a political crisis as it was a technical one. I was intrigued to see climate change as a tangible, present experience, not the ever-approaching but distant concern. I was amazed by how radically water use could be reduced (halved in 18 months), and reminded again of the disjuncture between universal messaging and differential realities: should we really be asking those in informal settlements to reduce their already-low use of water? Given our different experiences of water, should there be one universal ethic for our relationship with water. Given a simplistic distinction between cities that flood and cities that experience drought (or even cities that experience both in a year), is is possible to provide one guidance to both situations at once?
I did not expect that the TNOC session would yield not a pragmatic technical or policy output, but instead lead to a series of deep conversations on the ethics posed by different realities of, and interactions with, water. In our conversations, we arrived at a notion of an ethical code for interacting with water. We explored how we might propose a set of responsibilities that many people and entities could relate to, and contextualise to their own cities and experiences. We organised these principles by those responsible for using, directing and regulating water. We know we have just scratched the surface, and continuously revisited the tension between a concise list and detailed explanation.
The journey to produce this ethical code has been fascinating and reflective, and I am looking forward to the next stages, as more people add their comments, critique and ideas.
Sareh is a post-doctoral research fellow in landscape architecture at the Univeristé Libre de Bruxelles, Belgium. Her research interest focuses on the nexus of Design Experimentation, Nature-based Solutions for urban water management and Climate Change.
In the Middle East, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces with vast areas of lawn with high water requirements, and have experimented with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes.
One in four large cities face water stress, and water demand is projected to increase by 55% by 2050. Furthermore, projected impacts of climate change in water-scarce regions will mean prolonged droughts, and more frequent extreme rainfall events causing flash flooding. Having a code to reduce water use and regenerate water systems is therefore direly needed and welcomed. The systemic approach of the code and its attempt at covering the entire water system is testimony to the whole-of-economy approach required to tackle water issues in cities.
In our view, the code can further highlight the criticality of Invisible Water and the role of built environment professionals in tackling it. Water can be invisible in urban settings when it flows underground or when it only leaves marks in the landscape where it gushes during floods and rushes to the sea. Water is also needed to produce all goods, including food as well as construction materials. This embodied water is invisible to the urban consumer, or built environment professionals selecting construction materials, yet it has severe repercussions on draining water resources across supply chains, including in water-scarce regions elsewhere. We provide some thoughts about how built environment professionals can account for Invisible Water and we highlight implications to the code.
Invisible Water in Landscapes
Invisible Water in the city needs to be taken into account in any attempt to move towards more water sensitive cities. Integrated Urban Water Management (IUWM) considers a whole‑of-catchment approach in co-ordinating the management of land, water and other natural resources. IUWM aims to help cities progress towards a more circular economy, by closing the water loop, helping limit the discharge of (liquid) waste in waterways, and limiting the constantly growing need for additional water resources. Built environment professionals such as urban planners, architects, landscape architects, urbanists and construction engineers, play an important role in sustainable distribution, use, discharge, and reuse of water in our cities. They need to consider Invisible Water when making decisions on where to place new developments or implement Nature-based Solutions in urban areas. By considering the underlying ecological and hydrological systems (i.e. Invisible Water), decisions can be made to make the best use out of stormwater runoff and to optimize the required hard infrastructure (e.g. drainage pipes). This means understanding how water moves in and around the site depending on the topography, and accordingly restoring and creating green networks in the footprint of moist soil.
In the Middle East, for example, a number of design firms have refuted the idea of copying western-style green spaces often with vast areas of lawn requiring large amounts of water, and have taken on the challenge to experiment with new forms of linear urban parks in the abandoned dry water channels, often known as wadis. This requires innovative approaches in designing adaptive and flexible landscapes that can accommodate flooding in extreme rainfall events while serving as public parks in dry seasons. The Invisible Water flowing in shallow aquifers along these corridors can often support revegetation of the channel, and strategically planted “oases” with native plants can store water underground, but also bring water back to the surface on the long-term, a technique that was traditionally used by native desert inhabitants.
Designed by Heatherwick Studio, Al Fayah Park in Abu Dhabi is inspired by the landscape of wadis and cracked soil in sun burnt desert landscapes. The perforated canopy shades the sunken oasis, and helps reducing the amount of water lost to evaporation. Source: Image courtesy of Heatherwick Studio, used with permission
Embodied Water in the built environment
Invisible Water embodied in goods, products and services, including construction materials and activities, is similarly critical to address. Built environment professionals, across all disciplines, need to better understand the embodied water associated with their design choices, notably as embodied Invisible Water represents the largest part of the water use of a city, house and even transport modes. This can only be made possible by making relevant data fully accessible, transparent and consistent so that higher education institutions and practices can capitalize on this new knowledge and use it for training and design purposes, respectively. As such, the Australian Environmental Performance in Construction (EPiC) database of embodied environmental flows should be highlighted. Being available in open-access, as advocated for by the code (items 3 and 6), it has been adopted by multiple built environment associations and practices and is raising awareness about embodied water on the driest inhabited continent on Earth. Similar initiatives are needed in data-poor regions, which often happen to suffer also from water-scarcity, in order to relieve pressure on far-away aquifers. The Mediterranean region for example, will be significantly drier in the coming decades, potentially seeing 40 percent less precipitation during the winter rainy season. Yet, most countries in the South of the Mediterranean have access to very limited data to inform their designs in regard to Invisible Water.
The embodied water of construction materials is significant. Built environment professionals need access to reliable, transparent, consistent and accessible data to optimise their design decisions for this ‘invisible’ water. Source: authors
We propose adding the following commitments for built environment professionals:
Understanding the importance of Invisible Water, including underlying hydrological systems, but also embodied water flows for construction of materials and infrastructure assets
Taking account of water requirements of plants and materials used in designs
Learning from the past and traditional approaches of first nations peoples in sustainable water management
André is a Professor of Environmental Performance and Parametric design at the Université Catholique de Louvain, Belgium. He develops advanced models to quantify and better understand life cycle environmental performance in the built environment.
Katherine is a PhD candidate at the Interdisciplinary Conservation Science Group at RMIT university. Her passion for conservation biology and curiosity for understanding natural phenomena has led to a diverse research background in animal behaviour, spatial analysis, invasion biology and ecological theory.
For cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management.
The code provides a good summary of the challenges and divided responsibility in managing water at different scales, but there are some improvements to be made with respect to understanding the broader context and application of the code, as well as clarity in wording of certain points.
For cities that already have high standards of water management, such as Melbourne, the code is not transformational, but may allow for confirmation and fine tuning of policies by highlighting strengths and weaknesses of current approaches to water management. In this way, the code could be used as a kind of checklist, particularly for cities where water management policies are new or under development. Since many of the points are very general, it might be useful to have the code in tandem with case study examples to guide cities that do not already have appropriate policies or governance structures.
While top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity.
The code would benefit from articulating how hierarchies (point 2.4*) and diversity in water supply types could be linked to different consumptive and non-consumptive uses, such as the need for potable water for cooking both in households and restaurants, or redirection of stormwater for gardens and parks. Water suppliers are in the best position to both allocate and prioritise water use from various sources to ensure water use efficiency. This includes consideration of desalination and recycled water systems as directly or indirectly supplementing potable water supply. We recommend that water suppliers be committed to investigating reuse of wastewater for potable purposes in the event of water scarcity, linking wastewater treatment, which already ought to be treated for the prevention of pollution (point 2.5), and provision of consistent supply under uncertain and changing climates. This is relevant to point 1.6 (i.e. if the drinking supply already includes suitably treated wastewater then it may be acceptable to use the drinking supply for all uses).
It would also be useful to articulate if, and how, the code intends to work within the broader governance context for water management outside of urban jurisdictions. Missing from the code, e.g. point 3.1, is an important concept of environmental water. Environmental Water Requirements (EWR) are the volume of water that is reserved for ensuring the ongoing functioning of freshwater ecosystems (Smakhtin, 2004 p v). Water use without appropriate regard to EWR can lead to over extraction, dry riverbeds and poor environmental outcomes (Vertessey et al. 2019, p 8-9). We recommend inclusion of a clause explicitly addressing the need for governance systems to ensure EWR are met.
While top-down management has an important role, it also has limitations, especially in countries with high levels of government corruption, or low levels of technical and governance capacity. Point 3.1 and/or 3.8 could be explicit about including a requirement for community consultation and/or other forms of democratic process around water allocation and environmental outcomes. Similarly, point 2.5 and 3.8 could be more explicit about regulation of excessive or irresponsible use, including penalties for water users (particularly industries) that pollute, damage or disrupt supply to other water users.
*Point numbers refer to the code section (1 = water user, 2 = water supplier, 3 = water governance), followed by the subpoint for that section (as listed in the code document)
References
Radcliffe, J. C., & Page, D. (2020). Water reuse and recycling in Australia-history, current situation and future perspectives. Water Cycle, 1, 19-40.
Smakhtin, V. (2004). Taking into account environmental water requirements in global-scale water resources assessments (Vol. 2) p. v
Vertessy et al. (2019) Independent assessment of the 2018-19 fish deaths in the lower Darling: Final Report. Accessed 30/10/2020. URL: https://www.mdba.gov.au/sites/default/files/pubs/Final-Report-Independent-Panel-fish-deaths-lower%20Darling_4.pdf
Dr Casey Furlong is a Senior Water Strategy Consultant at GHD, Senior Industry Fellow at RMIT, and Advisory Board Member at the WETT Research Centre. Since joining the water sector in 2011 Casey has worked in 5 teams at Melbourne Water, completed industry funded PhD and Post-docs, and has published a wide variety of content on water security, alternative water sources and Integrated Water Management.
Research on the association between neighborhood green and obesity is inconsistent. New indicators are needed to enable researchers to identify the optimal level of greenness that can help with this widespread public health challenge.
Obesity imposes a heavy burden on individuals and societies (Boutari and Mantzoros, 2022). Since obesity is difficult to cure and often coexists with other chronic conditions, public health efforts to prevent obesity are needed (McNally, 2024). However, a strategy focusing on individuals, simply telling people to eat less and exercise more, has not been successful (Blüher, 2019). It is important to consider the broader context in which people live their lives, as many people live in “obesogenic” environments, where it is difficult to engage in healthy behaviors.
Caption: Two areas with different levels (density, distribution) of greenery Credit: Google (2024) Pakenham & Nambour
Greening neighborhoods could help to tackle obesogenic environments. Urban greenery (e.g., parks, gardens, street trees) has been shown to benefit human health through multiple pathways, such as providing an opportunity for physical activity and social interaction, lowering stress, reducing urban heat, and decreasing air pollution (Nieuwenhuijsen et al., 2017). Given that physically active lifestyles and lower levels of stress can minimize the risk of obesity (Cleven et al., 2020; Tomiyama, 2019), we can expect that urban greenery could protect against obesity. Increasing research has investigated whether living in greener neighborhoods is associated with a lower risk of obesity, but findings are inconclusive. While some literature reviews have reported higher levels of greenness to be associated with reduced risk of obesity in adults and in older adults (Liu et al., 2022; Yuan et al., 2021), there are also reviews showing mixed relationships between greenery and obesity measures (Chandrabose et al., 2019; Hadgraft et al., 2021).
A reason for the lack of consistent evidence linking urban greenery and obesity may lie in the way greenery is measured. Of the diverse methods to assess greenery, there are two common approaches. One focuses on parks or public green spaces, such as the number or size of parks within a certain area and proximity to the nearest park. These park-based metrics have been found mostly unrelated to obesity measures in previous reviews (Hadgraft et al., 2021; Luo et al., 2020). The other often-used measure of greenery is the level of greenness within a neighborhood, typically estimated using the Normalized Difference Vegetation Index (NDVI). This is a measure derived mostly from remote sensing satellite imagery, with higher values indicating denser vegetation (Martinez & Labib, 2023). Studies normally use mean or median NDVI of an area, but they have shown mixed findings in the association with obesity. For instance, higher levels of such NDVI measures were associated with reduced obesity risk in China (Huang et al., 2020) and the UK (Sarkar, 2017) but not in Australia (Daniel et al., 2019) or the US (Browning & Rigolon, 2018).
It is possible that these existing greenery measures do not capture aspects of greenery that are beneficial for reducing obesity. An Australian study showed that variability in NDVI (areas with high variability having distinct greenery, such as larger parks and a network of street trees along with non-green surfaces) was more strongly associated with risk of obesity, in comparison to mean levels of greenness (Pereira et al., 2013). The findings seem to suggest that a neighborhood dotted with dense greenery may be more beneficial to obesity prevention than an area covered evenly with sparse greenery. It can be thus argued that what might matter more is the availability of dense greenery, which is distinct from park-related measures or the average level of greenness across a neighborhood.
To clearly understand what aspects of neighborhood greenery can contribute to obesity prevention, we need to develop new measurement methods. We think that measures capturing the spatial distribution of greenery with different levels of greenness would be promising. Since public health data are often collected from a large sample recruited from diverse localities, new measures of greenery should be derived from readily available data (e.g., NDVI, Google Street views) rather than from bespoke measures applied to limited settings. New greenery measures may enable researchers to identify the optimal level of greenness that can support obesity prevention. Evidence from such research can help local governments to develop health-promoting greening strategies.
Takemi Sugiyama, Manoj Chandrabose, Nyssa Hadgraft, and Suzanne Mavoa Melbourne
Blüher, M. (2019). Obesity: Global epidemiology and pathogenesis. Nature Reviews Endocrinology, 15(5), 288-298.
Boutari, C., & Mantzoros, C. S. (2022). A 2022 update on the epidemiology of obesity and a call to action: As its twin COVID-19 pandemic appears to be receding, the obesity and dysmetabolism pandemic continues to rage on. Metabolism, 133, 155217.
Browning, M. H., & Rigolon, A. (2018). Do income, race and ethnicity, and sprawl influence the greenspace-human health link in city-level analyses? Findings from 496 cities in the United States. International Journal of Environmental Research & Public Health, 15(7), 1541.
Cleven, L., Krell-Roesch, J., Nigg, C. R., & Woll, A. (2020). The association between physical activity with incident obesity, coronary heart disease, diabetes and hypertension in adults: a systematic review of longitudinal studies published after 2012. BMC Public Health, 20, 726.
Chandrabose, M., Rachele, J. N., Gunn, L., Kavanagh, A., Owen, N., Turrell, G., Giles-Corti, B., & Sugiyama, T. (2019). Built environment and cardio-metabolic health: systematic review and meta-analysis of longitudinal studies. Obesity Reviews, 20(1), 41-54.
Daniel, M., Carroll, S. J., Niyonsenga, T., Piggott, E. J., Taylor, A., & Coffee, N. T. (2019). Concurrent assessment of urban environment and cardiometabolic risk over 10 years in a middle-aged population-based cohort. Geographical Research, 57(1), 98-110.
Hadgraft, N., Chandrabose, M., Bok, B., Owen, N., Woodcock, I., Newton, P., Frantzeskaki, N., & Sugiyama, T. (2021). Low-carbon built environments and cardiometabolic health: A systematic review of Australian studies. Cities & Health, 6(2), 418-431.
Huang, W. Z., Yang, B. Y., Yu, H. Y., Bloom, M. S., Markevych, I., Heinrich, J., Knibbs, L. D., . . . Dong, G. H. (2020). Association between community greenness and obesity in urban-dwelling Chinese adults. Science of the Total Environment, 702, 135040.
Liu, X. X., Ma, X. L., Huang, W. Z., Luo, Y. N., He, C. J., Zhong, X. M., Dadvand, P., … Yang, B. Y. (2022). Green space and cardiovascular disease: A systematic review with meta-analysis. Environmental Pollution, 301, 118990.
Luo, Y. N., Huang, W. Z., Liu, X. X., Markevych, I., Bloom, M. S., Zhao, T. Y., Heinrich, J., Yang, B. Y., & Dong, G. H. (2020). Greenspace with overweight and obesity: A systematic review and meta-analysis of epidemiological studies up to 2020. Obesity Reviews, 21(11), e13078.
Martinez, A. d. l. I., & Labib, S. M. (2023). Demystifying normalized difference vegetation index (NDVI) for greenness exposure assessments and policy interventions in urban greening. Environmental Research, 220, 115155.
McNally, S. (2024). Preventing obesity is different from curing it—and even more urgent. BMJ, 384, q134.
Nieuwenhuijsen, M. J., Khreis, H., Triguero-Mas, M., Gascon, M., & Dadvand, P. (2017). Fifty shades of green: Pathway to healthy urban living. Epidemiology, 28(1), 63-71.
Pereira, G., Christian, H., Foster, S., Boruff, B. J., Bull, F., Knuiman, M., & Giles-Corti, B. (2013). The association between neighborhood greenness and weight status: An observational study in Perth Western Australia. Environmental Health, 12(1), 49.
Sarkar, C. (2017). Residential greenness and adiposity: Findings from the UK Biobank. Environment International, 106, 1-10.
Tomiyama, A. J. (2019). Stress and obesity. Annual Review of Psychology, 70, 703-718.
Yuan, Y., Huang, F., Lin, F., Zhu, P., & Zhu, P. (2021). Green space exposure on mortality and cardiovascular outcomes in older adults: A systematic review and meta-analysis of observational studies. Aging Clinical & Experimental Research, 33(7), 1783-1797.
Out of sight, out of mind. That is how most of us want to think about the trash we generate. But as our cities become increasingly overwhelmed with the burden of refuse collection and disposal, we must refocus the way we view our discards and devote greater attention to the value and importance of waste management. Only by seeing waste as a resource, and understanding its potential, can we help accelerate the building of better systems for disposing and reusing the things we throw out.
Trash talk (n): discourse relating to sustainable waste management, from job and energy creation to art.
Garbage is a natural product of development and urbanization. The world’s cities produced 1.3 billion metric tonnes (286.6 trillion pounds) of trash in 2012, according to a World Bank report on global solid waste management. By 2025, that figure is expected to reach 2.2 billion tonnes (485 trillion pounds) per year. Municipal solid waste already overwhelms city budgets, especially in the developing world, and it is expected to grow even faster than the rate of urbanization.
Trash carries many names in English. Garbage, rubbish, refuse, waste, detritus, debris, discard, litter, junk, and scraps are some examples. Whatever we call it, we tend to have a single prevailing attitude towards trash: get rid of it, preferably with minimal muss, fuss, or stink. And while we may be willing to sort recyclables and deposit them in special bins, we generally give little thought to where our discards go or what happens to them. Just consider: how often have you visited a municipal waste site or recycling center?
For the health of our people and planet, however, we do need to devote more thought to garbage—how to reduce it and where it ends up. We need to move beyond the “yuck” factor and stop expecting others to take care of our rubbish for us. We must re-think what trash is, and get behind the solutions that tap its potential uses and benefits to push for better waste management across both the developed and developing worlds.
Let’s start by considering the multiple facets of city garbage.
Piles of refuse litter city streets during the Paris garbage strike of 2016. Photo: V. Gwinner
What the stink is about
Yes, common garbage is not attractive. Thrown in with other trash, most discarded objects quickly become slimy, grimy, and smelly. If you live in a city with good trash collection and recycling, the stink and ugliness are minimized and quickly whisked from view.
But sometimes, even that falls apart. I was in Paris in the spring of 2016, when the city’s public garbage collectors went on strike for nearly two weeks—in a city where residential garbage is normally collected daily. The result was a mess. Despite considerable progress in getting people to sort refuse from recyclables, collection bins were overflowing and oozing with sludge. The usually welcoming sidewalks of areas such as the Latin Quarter were blocked with heaping garbage piles, greatly frustrating locals and visitors alike. [Note: half the city’s districts are serviced by private trash collection companies. Those neighborhoods remained clear of garbage, and the city ultimately paid the private companies to pick up the refuse left by the public sector collectors until the strike was resolved.]
I live in Nairobi, Kenya, where municipal garbage collection is largely nonexistent. In our compound, we pay a monthly fee to a private company that collects our rubbish (one bag maximum, twice a week) and presumably disposes of it properly.
But not everyone can afford or is willing to pay for private trash collection. Less than half of households in Nairobi subscribe to such a service. Instead, many people burn their rubbish, filling the air with smoke and fumes. Others simply toss their trash on the ground, as evidenced by the large amounts of litter across the city.
Smoke from burning garbage is a daily sight in Nairobi. Photo: V. Gwinner
Poor neighborhoods suffer the most from waste management neglect and are filled with piles of rubbish, including so-called “flying toilets” (plastic bags of human waste tossed in with the rest).
What garbage is picked up is supposed to go to collection centers and ultimately end up in the city’s Dandora dumpsite. But factors such as graft, political turf wars, and scrabbles over lucrative waste disposal contracts mean that trash is often dumped in unauthorized locations or left to rot in place along city streets and alleys. Those trucks that do make it to Dandora face an access road that gets washed out during heavy rains and gangs that demand small bribes to offload the garbage.
Dandora covers 30 acres and was designed to hold 500,000 metric tonnes of trash, though it is said to contain some 1.8 million tonnes. The refuse is not properly contained and ends up leaching into the land and water that flows into the Nairobi River.
Plans to open a new 1,500-acre dumpsite on the outskirts of Nairobi have been discussed for years, but they are stalled because the land is situated directly beneath the flight path of Nairobi’s Jomo Kenyatta International Airport. Dumps attract birds, which could pose a serious aviation safety risk. After all, it was engine failures due to bird collisions that forced Captain Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger to land U.S. Airways Flight 1549 on New York’s Hudson River.
Formal waste management is nonexistent in Nairobi’s slums. Photo: V. Gwinner
Open dumps are used all over the world. They present major health and environmental risks, especially in heavily populated areas. Hazards include microbial pathogens, toxic chemicals, noxious fumes, and heavy metals that can contaminate soil, air, and groundwater.
When garbage smells…like money and jobs
For all the stink and risks, garbage also has its positive sides.
Waste management is a huge business worldwide. In the U.S. alone, the collection and disposal of non-hazardous solid waste is a $52 billion industry. From curbside pickup through specialized trucks and sorting, all the way to landfills and incinerators, there is money to be made along the garbage collection and disposal continuum. Large companies such as Waste Management, Republic Services, and Veolia dominate, but there are many smaller companies taking care of waste collection, treatment, and disposal, too. In the U.S., they number more than 25,000.
Garbage also creates jobs, both formally and informally. Millions are employed in formal garbage management, and recycling has been adding jobs at a rate of 7 percent per year in the European Union and is expected to create 1.1 million new positions by 2030 in the U.S., according to the EcoCycle website. The numbers of informal waste-pickers—people who live off what they find and sell from garbage bins and piles—is estimated to be 15-20 million globally. Their work is often dirty and dangerous, as it exposes them to hazards, pathogens, contaminants, and crime related to turf wars over trash sources. But, informal waste-picking offers a source of cash and employment to people who are often desperately poor. In Kenya, 43.4 percent of the population lives on less than $1.25/day. Scavengers picking through the garbage mounds of Dandora might make up to $2.50/day collecting metals, rubber, plastics, electronics, and even meat bones—a pittance, yes, but an important form of income generation nonetheless.
Examples abound of cases in which the informal sector has organized to create safer and more sustainable ways of participating in waste management, thereby allowing people in this sector to play a considerable role in garbage collection and the recovery/reuse of recyclable materials, according to the United National Environment Programme (or UNEP). In Lusaka, Zambia, for example, the informal sector accounts for 30 percent of waste collection, and UN Habitat estimates that as much as 60 percent of urban jobs there are associated with trash collection, sorting, recovery, and disposal.
In the slums of Nairobi, community-based organizations are spearheading efforts to make trash collection and the recovery of usable materials into businesses that serve as a source of employment and empowerment for local residents. For example, the Matare Environmental Youth Group (or MEYG) employs young community members to collect garbage near their homes in one of city’s largest slums. They pick up household waste once a week for a monthly fee of 150 Kenya Shillings (U.S. $1.50) and take it to a designated site to be collected by municipal services. [Note: though the city services often fail to do their part, the effort removes trash from where people live, and has improved community cleanliness and security, according to locals.]
MEYG also has reclaimed formerly trash-ridden spots in the neighborhood to create public spaces for sports and other social activities. It has developed a recycling program that pays youth to collect plastics, which they then process for industrial use. Members note that MEYG has changed how local residents handle garbage, has reduced litter, and has created a forum to engage youth and foment community leaders.
While making such programs financially sustainable is a challenge, there are strong arguments for using public or donor subsidies to keep them alive. The costs and benefits are hard to monetize, but the contributions of these programs include such key public goods as improved health, cleaner environments, job creation, leadership development, and reduced crime; these need to be weighed against the price that comes with a lack of action. As noted by UNEP:
“The economic costs of not addressing waste management problems in developing countries are difficult to quantify, but the available evidence suggests that they greatly exceed the financial costs of environmentally sound waste management. So action on waste management is an urgent political priority—waiting for better evidence is no excuse.”
—The Global Waste Management Outlook, UNEP, 2015
Informal groups and micro-enterprises have formed agreements with municipal authorities to deliver waste management services in places as diverse as Uganda, Colombia, Brazil, the Balkans, and southern Asia. They demonstrate that “decentralized and community-based, small-scale facilities can provide a viable and affordable alternative to municipal services,” according to UNEP. Here is an example from Bangladesh:
Waste Concern, an NGO in Bangladesh, has developed a model for such facilities, which are called Integrated Resource Recovery Centers (IRRCs). Waste Concern’s model uses simple technology based on source separation of organic waste. It is low cost, and it recovers value from waste by converting organic waste into compost and valorizing recyclable materials, while providing livelihood opportunities to the urban poor. With assistance from the United Nations Economic and Social Commission for Asia and the Pacific (UNESCAP), the model has been replicated across secondary cities and towns in several countries. In Matale, Sri Lanka, for example, three neighborhood-based plants have been installed with a combined capacity of 9 tonnes of organic waste and 3 tonnes of recyclables a day, thus treating a major portion of waste generated by the town and creating employment for 20 urban poor.”
—The Global Waste Management Outlook, UNEP, 2015
When trash is power
When garbage decomposes, it releases gases like methane, which is flammable, explosive, and a potent greenhouse gas. However, if properly captured, the gas can be converted into energy for powering vehicles, businesses, and homes. Likewise, incineration of garbage can be used to create energy, and organic waste can be converted to biofuel.
Indeed, all over the world, companies have set up operations to capture the waste-to-energy potential of modern landfills. For example, Southern California Edison and the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power fuel the City of Industry hotel and convention center complex using processed landfill gas. The Isséane Recycling Centre and Energy from Waste plant near Paris, France converts more than 460,000 tons of household trash per year into enough electricity and heat to serve 79,000 houses and apartments. With 32 waste-to-energy plants around the country, Sweden is so successful at converting its trash to power that it actually imports garbage from other countries. The plants generate enough power to heat 950,000 homes and provide electricity for 260,000 households. China has some 50 plants converting trash to energy, and Japan converts 30 million tons of municipal solid waste into power annually. Other examples of countries with waste-to-energy facilities include Austria, the U.K., Canada, Sri Lanka, Thailand, and India.
T-Park is turning waste treatment on its head—not just to create energy but also to change public attitudes. Photo: www.info.gov.hk
Similar efforts are converting sewage waste into energy. Hong Kong has a plant called T-Park that treats 1,200 tonnes of sludge each day, using the steam generated from the incineration process to create enough energy to power both the facility and an additional 4,000 households. Previously, all the city’s sludge was disposed of in landfills, but now, the plant’s modern incineration system has reduced that volume by 90 percent.
A further effort to relieve Hong Kong’s municipal waste load involves the construction of the city’s first electronics recycling facility, which is meant to process some 30,000 tonnes of discarded computers, TVs, air conditioners, and refrigerators each year. The plant will be built with government funding, but will operate under a “polluters pay” scheme that charges disposal fees to electronics importers and distributers.
Why trash talk and trashy thoughts can be a good thing
Hong Kong’s T-Park is doing far more than converting waste to power. It is also introducing a novel approach to public outreach aimed at turning common perceptions of waste on their heads. Instead of being the type of place people want to avoid, T-Park has deliberately developed educational and recreational facilities designed to lure people to its waste treatment site. It is housed in a modern glass building with beautiful spaces and views of the harbor. It features a spa with three pools (hot, warm, cold), a roof garden, a second garden on the ground, and a wetland habitat that attracts a wide range of birds, insects, and amphibians.
T-Park also offers guided tours, an education center, a theater, and a gallery, all of which teach people about the plant’s processes. Exhibits focus on sewage treatment and waste reduction, encouraging visitors to deepen their efforts to conserve energy, to produce less waste, and to promote recycling. To further support the facility’s green theme, the education areas and café are equipped with environmentally-friendly furniture and utensils.
While T-Park is turning the sewage treatment process into a major urban green space, a highly innovative artistic production used the medium of dance to convey the hidden beauty and grace of municipal trash collection. The show, called Trash Dance, was the brainchild of choreographer Allison Orr. Orr spent nearly a year following municipal sanitation workers around Austin, Texas on their daily rounds, talking about their work and their lives. When she first proposed to involve them in an artistic production, they were skeptical. But over time she convinced them that the cadence and movements that they saw as a routine part of their work could be construed as dance, if they were just looked at from a different perspective.
The show was only performed once, on an abandoned airstrip outside of Austin. It received great accolades from the hundreds of people who came out in the rain to watch. Fortunately, the show’s preparation and performance were captured in a film by Andrew Garisson. Also called Trash Dance, the movie garnered numerous awards, including a special jury recognition at the 2012 South By Southwest (SXSW) festival.
Orr’s show is transformative, and it captures the kind of change that will be needed in public attitudes towards the garbage we generate.
Indeed, trash talk is going to have to adopt a new definition—one that includes widespread conversations about the value to be derived from our daily discards. Trash talk needs to become part of our development discourse, and to serve as a basis for new attitudes and behaviors around trash management. The shift may not be easy. But it’s the alternative—inaction—that will really stink, both for our cities and our futures.
Kasozi A, von Blottnitz H. Solid Waste Management in Nairobi: A Situation Analysis – Technical Document accompanying the Integrated Solid Waste Management Plan. Environmental & Process Systems Engineering Group, University of Cape Town. 2010.
Environmental perception by people is complex and dynamic. Individuals are active agents in their perceptions of nature—not passive receivers of information—while the environment is a global unity on which environmental processes within cities are based. Cognitive, interpretive and evaluative components are all incorporated into the perceptual processes of individuals.
The world we perceive is a world created by ourselves through our experiences, which reflects our expectations, needs and goals. Gibson, in his environmental perception theory, asserted that objects are perceived according to the meaning, action and behaviour involved and not according to the physical characteristics they possess.
All of this influences how we plan, design and manage our cities.
Many Nature of Cities posts call the attention to the relevance of green and blue infrastructure in densely built-up areas, representing a win-win way to conciliate urbanization with the protection of ecosystems services. The success of reconnecting people to their nearby nature will hang principally on people´s values.
Riverscapes are attractive places not only because water is one of the most important aesthetic elements of the landscape, but because of the many native plants and animals that occupy the shore. As Wilson asserted in his Biophilia theory, we all have an inborn affinity for other forms of life. At the same time, since the beginning of the last century architects, designers, planners, psychologists and researchers interested in environmental behaviour have consistently reported the presence of water as one of the most important and attractive visual elements of a natural or built landscape. The attraction exerted by the rivers and their banks are explained by the “Hydro- and Biophilia” theories (Wilson (1984) .
This human preference is ancient. Settlements have always been located near water because of the resources that water offer for life. Waterscapes attract tourists, may be distinctive urban icons and have cultural significance to residents binding them to their local landscapes. At the same time—unfortunately—urban settlements have long considered riparian areas as marginal places, disregarding their intrinsic environmental values. That is why such native habitats became progressively altered, fragmented or disappeared.
Environmental perception is remarkably relevant to river management. It has been shown, for instance, that wetlands that are highly valued for their appearance are more likely to persist over the long-term in a human-dominated landscape. In management it is therefore fundamental to examine local residents’ environmental perceptions about urban streams in order to create appropriate and efficient designs.
In Buenos Aires there are three main water courses and 14 other smaller rivers and streams that drain into the Rio de la Plata estuary, most of which have been greatly modified. The Rio de la Plata waterfront is a main urban attraction, very crowded on weekends.
More than seven hundred questionnaires through personal interviews with visitors to the waterfront and coastal residents in 2009 endorsed the predilection for nature and water among other landscape features.
Buenos Aires waterfront as a favourite place for recreation
Riverbanks in the metropolitan area
While the estuary is the most important, other neighbouring streams, which still harbour biodiversity, are neglected, losing their appeal because of contamination problems that began 40 years ago. People stopped using streams as recreational and places for contemplation, as they were often used as dumping grounds.
In 2013, opinions and attitudes of three hundred interviewed adults living along one of those polluted streams showed a widespread perception of poor environmental quality across the watershed. The way in which respondents valued and perceived watercourses was highly influenced by what they saw or smelled. Adults generally thought streams were polluted by effluents and waste, and somehow dangerous due to crime. Results showed that a lonely riverbank that is littered and vandalized may be frequently mistaken as unsafe by passing residents, who associate such places with alcohol or drugs abuse. Interviewed adults did not value watercourses for their wildlife or scenery and did not use them for recreation. Worse, some women proposed that streams be culverted underground, removing them from surface view!
An absolutely different message was given by the young peopleliving along the watershed. In the above mentioned study we explored their views and desires concerning the river quality. Almost four hundred young people of 10-15 years old were interviewed and asked to draw how they saw the river today and how they would like it to see in the future.
Young people believe nature is very important and irreplaceable for their daily lives. Although right now they are aware and preoccupied about the environmental state of the river, they see possibilities to improve the environmental situation in the future, regardless on which sector of the basin they live and their social-economic status.
To the left of the picture dark colours showing litter, death trees and fish, and a contaminating industry near their homes. To the right, harmony between the urban fabric and the nature nearby. Drawn by Valentina,13 years old
Fabio, ten year old, sees the river in the future as habitat for nature.
Are these optimistic young people’s views based on the fact that kids are traditionally very fond of natural places such as rivers and streams as places to play, rest and come together, developing their own individual understandings of those environments?
Or, do these results confirm the influence of the current Millennial Generation (Y Generation), convinced that they want to overcome current political and economic hurdles; adjusting their lifestyle to the ecological challenges of our time?
If the latter is so, urban nature by the hand of a unified “green”-oriented and civic-minded generation should have a promising future ahead.
‘Cause there’s plenty of room for everyone and when the summer gets nice we can bask in the sun or swing in a hammock like we don’t have a care because we love our river, our river to share. Because we’re family, don’t you know? And this river will always be all of our home. —Kelly Zion, 2013 (20 years old)
Ana Faggi and Jürgen Breuste
Buenos Aires and Salzburg
Dr. Jürgen Breuste is Head of the working group Urban and Landscape Ecology at the University of Salzburg, and founding President of the Society for Urban Ecology (SURE).
“Your stomach is empty since yesterday. Let me make you some soup,” said the monk to me as I took deep breaths to try and get more oxygen to my altitude-sickened body, “it may help with your nausea too.” As I nodded weakly, he went back into the kitchen, in his home under the great Kee Gompa (Monastery), an 800-year old outpost of Tibetan Buddhism perched on a rocky outcrop high above the Spiti river in Himachal Pradesh, India. I had been sent to the monastery in a hurry the previous night by my ecologist friend Charudutt Mishra, part of the High Altitudes Program of the Nature Conservation Foundation and Director of Science and Conservation for the International Snow Leopard Trust. We were visiting the NCF base camp in the nearby village of Kibber, from where Dr. Mishra has been building community-based wildlife conservation programs for a decade and a half, focusing on the larger vertebrate fauna of Spiti Valley. Starting from the plains of Punjab three days earlier, we had made good progress driving through the Great Himalayan Range to reach this trans-Himalayan village the previous day, but the thin air at 4200 meters above sea level finally got to me. When Charu noticed my symptoms worsening in the night, he rushed me back to a lower elevation, to the care of his friend, the Lama (monk) at this ancient monastery.
Kee Gompa. Photo: Madhusudan Katti
Expecting a nourishing broth from some age-old mountain recipe, I eagerly took the steaming bowl, only to find a more familiar ajinomoto flavor and the crunch of dehydrated peas and carrots. The puzzle was solved when I went to put the empty bowl into the kitchen sink and noticed the empty packet of Knorr-brand instant soup by the stove! So even those seeking spiritual enlightenment deep in these ageless young mountains weren’t above using packages of instant noodle soup. Communities living in this remote valley, near the India-Tibet border, have always depended upon trade with outside communities for many essential goods, and have thus (not surprisingly, even if it seems incongruous at first glance) embraced many elements of modern technology, including processed packaged foods. Thus it was that I came to be drinking instant soup in that ancient monastery that morning, and began to contemplate the reach of the forces of globalization and urbanization. That bowl of soup brought into sharp relief the true extent of rapid urbanization in India, which I had recently written about (with Harini Nagendra, a contributor to TNoC, and several other colleagues) in a report assessing urban growth and its consequences for biodiversity and ecosystem services in India, for the UN Convention on Biological Diversity.
Prayer flags, solar panels, and Alpine Choughs. Photo: Madhusudan Katti
That package of instant soup began its life as a product in a factory thousands of miles away from the monastery, its vegetable contents coming from farms even farther away. Now the empty plastic pouch was going to land in a rubbish pile somewhere on the sides of this breathtakingly beautiful mountain, and perhaps eventually find its way into the roaring Spiti river to be swept back down towards the plains whence it came. For the monastery, like every other settlement in the valley—and indeed, like every urban area in the world—has a growing garbage disposal problem.
Garbage, especially of the non-recyclable plastic variety, littering the hillsides in such a remote valley? Tribal settlements and Buddhist monasteries surrounded by piles of rubbish, in turn overrun by packs of feral dogs? These were unthinkable when Mishra and his colleagues at NCF started working on the ecology of the people, wild ungulates and snow leopards in this region nearly two decades ago. Just as unthinkable as the Facebook apps on cellphones in nearly every villager’s hands, the ATMs dispensing cash in remote towns, or the televisions bringing international cricket tournaments and advertisements for hair and skin products into many homes now electrified and plugged into the global grid. For the once sleepy settlements in these remote mountains, which only drew hardy souls from the plains seeking refuge and spiritual enlightenment in nature, away from the bustle of modern industrial civilization, have now turned into outposts along the rapidly urbanizing fringe of that very civilization. This urbanization has no doubt improved many human lives, helping solve some age old problems with modern technology, but also creating new ones threatening both human health and the biodiversity of this fragile desert ecosystem.
How can one look at a village like Kibber, with its 75 households of mostly mud houses with roofs fringed by tangled bunches of Caragana twigs, clustered tightly amid fields of peas and barley, and pastures with herds of goats, sheep, donkeys, cows and yaks, on the edge of a wildlife sanctuary, and think “urban”? Surely, these villages must still be outside most definitions of “urban”?
Kalamurti, Population 3. Is this a small urban habitat patch? Photo: Madhusudan Katti
The growing scientific literature on urban ecology is filled with attempts to define “urban” in consistent, measurable, quantitative ways. These include many criteria upon which most of us urban ecologists agree, yet there isn’t a single clear definition of what it means for a human settlement to be called “urban”. Often many of us settle on gradients encompassing a range of variables along some rural-to-urban axis, with somewhat arbitrary cut-offs to separate our cities from villages and hamlets. This does not include the many social institutional / governmental definitions of “village”, “town”, and “city”, which only add further layers of confusion for an urban ecologist trying to identify the limits of her study area, the urban ecosystem. It seems so much easier to identify and delimit the boundaries of other “natural” ecosystems on this planet now being blanketed by this new type of ecosystem which is connected with the far corners of the Earth through modern transportation and communication networks bringing together energy, materials, organisms, and ideas, and mixing them up with scant regard for any natural ecosystem boundaries.
How does one properly define (and delimit the extent of) “urban” in such a dynamically networked system? Where do we place a Kibber village, or the settlement around Kee monastery, along any of our rural-to-urban gradients? And on what basis? It might help to take an ecological (or social-ecological) approach, and examine the nature of these settlements in terms of their structure, composition, and the functional processes governing their dynamics.
Is Kibber a village or an urban outpost, and does it matter how we define it?
The small population size (75 households and growing) and geographical footprint (~0.25 sq.km built area) would seem to place Kibber firmly at the rural end of any urbanization gradient. But let us take a closer look at this village, in terms of key characteristics that are important in understanding the dynamics of urban ecosystems. Kibber is a permanent settlement composed of solid houses many of which are many decades old. The Kee Monastery, a few kilometers below, is many centuries old. The houses and monastery buildings, while mostly built from earth and other local materials, are solid structures that clearly distinguish them from the surrounding landscape. Newer buildings include an increasing quotient of concrete in their construction, even though it has much poorer insulation properties for the harsh winters of this high-altitude desert region.
Kibber village. Photo: Madhusudan Katti
The road winding through these settlements may not be paved everywhere with asphalt, but its surface is compacted from the pounding of hooves of livestock, and the tires of SUVs which now churn up the dust. The alleys and footpaths networking through the village are likewise compacted. All of which results in making these settlements much more impervious than the surrounding landscape, with storms resulting in muddy runoff and floods. The extent of impervious surface cover is a key feature of urban ecosystems, and these villages are well on their way along that gradient, despite their lack of paved roads and concrete.
While the total population and area of Kibber are small, the population and housing density are both quite high because this is a compact mountain settlement, with houses huddled together for warmth during the long winter months. The close clustering of the houses, and the fires in the hearths within, also result in local “heat island” like effects—and that is surely by design rather than a by-product of concrete and asphalt surfaces. The settlement is too small perhaps to have any significant impacts on the local climate, but it has clearly altered the flow of many materials and energy from the surrounding ecosystem. Long-term agriculture and human settlement throughout the valley, even at relatively low density, has altered the hydrology of the upper watersheds, with small dams, canals and pipes built to divert water into the farms and villages. These are now augmented by mini-(and larger) hydroelectric projects generating electricity to power the districts all along the Spiti and Sutlej rivers. Roads further alter water flows by stabilizing / destabilizing the slopes and creating new channels of flow.
Farming and livestock herds alter nutrient cycles in the already nutrient poor desert ecosystem. Livestock compete with native ungulates—the Blue SheepBharal, and the Himalayan Ibex—for forage in the alpine pastures, and bring back nutrients to the human settlements in the form of dung. Villagers collect dung both for manure in their farms and as fuel for their hearths, for wood is scarce up here above the tree-line. As a result, I’d guess that the villages also serve as sources of higher nitrogen deposition, well above background levels, just like larger cities worldwide. On the other hand, the apparent higher productivity or forage quality of the farms(likely in terms of higher Nitrogen content, and/or earlier spring flush of leaves in the fields) attract the Bharal and the Ibex, leading to potential conflicts with farmers, albeit mitigated by the Buddhism prevailing in the region which offers greater respect and protection to wildlife.
This seemingly small-scale concentration of nutrients and resulting higher productivity also has other visible effects on the local flora and fauna. Even the smallest village (see photo of Kalamurti above) comes with trees, willows and poplars planted by humans defying the tree-line and a flock of resident house sparrows. The farms and apple orchards, of course, contain their complement of non-native plant species, which nevertheless provide new sources of food for native fauna, from the bugs and pollinating bees to the Pikas tunneling among the terraces and retaining walls of farms and roads, and the Bharal and Ibex coming down to forage in the firlds. Along with trees, there are also occasional lawns and flowerbeds with people undoubtedly bringing species from other ecosystems for aesthetic, cultural, food, or medicinal uses.
House Sparrow flocks abound throughout the villages and farms, blissfully unaware of the population declines among their more mainstream kin across Europe and India. Each village and monastery also has its resident flock of Alpine Choughs, the native corvids swooping and gliding in mesmerizing aerobatic displays, while their cousins the Red-billed Choughs only venture into the edges of the farms. Tibetan Snowfinches, Red-fronted Serins, Great and Common Rosefinches, Black Redstarts and Desert Wheatears mix it up with the House Sparrows among the houses and farms, while the native Hill Pigeons fill in for the other urban icon, the Rock Pigeon. Many of the anthropogenic elements in this system—holes in rock walls, Caragana laden eaves, and rubbish tips—provide nesting habitat, food, and other resources for native fauna able to adapt to urban lifestyles.
Himalayan Pika peeks through the rocks of a retaining wall on the road outside Kibber. Photo: Madhusudan Katti
A Red Fox peers at me through a pile of rocks near Kibber. Photo: Madhusudan Katti
The effects ripple further up the trophic levels of the local food web, with Wolves and Snow Leopardsbroadening their palate with an occasional helping of goat, yak or donkey. Himalayan Griffon and Lammergeier Vultures soar in the skies scavenging on the kills of these predators, and are also apparently unaffected by the anthropogenic declines among their cousins throughout Asia. Red Foxes take over the alleyways at night, just like their London cousins, but face stiff competition from a growing population of feral dogs, tolerated and subsidized by kindly humans who feed them during the harsher seasons. Echoing the problems now widespread in all Indian cities, even small villages in Spiti host dozens of feral dogs, which venture in packs into the wilder countryside where they take down an occasional Bharal or Ibex, and even livestock, and no doubt many a smaller vertebrate. There are reports of a feral dog in league with a wolf near one of the villages in the Valley.
What about the human side of these old social-ecological systems?
Spitians are a resilient and enterprising people, having survived through centuries of harsh winters while remaining connected with the rest of the world along the old trade routes between south Asia and Tibet. With fewer (and weakening in recent years) caste hierarchies and narrower economic divisions compared to elsewhere in India, Spitian society seems remarkably cooperative, with village councils working together to face the challenges of their cold desert ecosystems. Tibetan Buddhism, the dominant cultural force in the valley through the monasteries built centuries ago, provides a spiritual framework for not just surviving in these conditions, but for doing so while caring for their fellow human beings, animals, farms, and the local wildlife. This combination of an innately cooperative, consensus-based society with religion inspired tolerance and respect for wildlife, has been a key ingredient in NCF’s conservation success in the region. Mishra and colleagues have been able to establish remarkable models for managing human-wildlife conflicts in such places. They help villagers run self-financed livestock insurance schemes to compensate for the depradations of wolves and snow leopards, a model that is now being adopted in other countries facing similar problems. Villages have also set aside grazing preserves for the wild ungulates facing competition from increasing herds of livestock. This level of cooperation and collective management of grazing lands is a rare accomplishment in India, where conflict between local communities and conservationists is more the norm.
The past two decades of the neoliberal economic boom in India has also reached these remote border villages. Cash crops like green peas and apples (in the lower reaches of Spiti) now augment the traditional barley fields and pastures. Improvements in the transportation and communication infrastructure, along with the Indian government’s opening up of the area to outsiders, have brought many more tourists, of the recreational, spiritual, and some ecological varieties. It also allows Spitians, who place a high value on learning, to send their children to boarding schools in larger towns, whence they may seek better opportunities in life. Access to electricity and liquified petroleum gas (LPG) is reducing dependence on dung as biofuel. This, along with lives now busier with newer ventures means more dung remains uncollected than before, allowing more of those nutrients to remain in the pastures. The Caragana lined roofs of the mud houses now sport solar panels and water heaters and satellite dishes amid fluttering prayer flags, even as people are building new concrete structures extending their homes or for home-stay guest houses for tourists. All of this has sparked a degree of upward mobility among the natives who are now relatively well off, thanks to the cash crops and the tourist money.
The ecological footprint of the average native Spitian has grown considerably over the past decade. Mishra notes that even their diet has been completely transformed since he started working in the region almost 20 years ago. Their collective ecological footprint now spills well beyond their watershed boundaries, what with the imports of instant noodle soups and flat screen televisions. Mishra’s native colleagues also worry about the growing disconnect among their youth who seem less interested in the nature around their village, an early stage of that modern urban malaise of Nature Deficit Disorder. An even darker side of this fast, mindless development in fragile mountain regions became apparent during our visit, when the lower reaches of Spiti also experienced some of the destructive power of an intense monsoon storm which devastated nearby Uttarakhand state. The more arid trans-Himalayan regions remained relatively safe from the more extreme devastation this time. But for how long, given the relentless march of “development” in India?
Meanwhile, the increasing affluence also facilitates another feature of modern urban societies: migration of labor. The relatively well-off Spitians are able to hire migrant laborers from the plains (mainly Bihar, Jharkhand, and Nepal) to work in their fields and hotels. These are often children in their early teens, brought up into the mountains by their parents who came up as part of road construction crews, or by labor contractors often operating in the shadows. Itinerant migrant construction workers and farm laborers are a regular feature of cities worldwide, often the source of both cultural diversification and strife. How this relatively big demographic and cultural shift plays out among the peaceful Spitians remains to be seen.
Increase in tourism with greater access and connectivity over the past decade only serves to ratchet up the urbanization engine, accelerating many of the above impacts, both positive and negative. While the cultural impacts of tourism may take some more time to unfold, even the Lamas have become inured to the presence of camera-toting tourists in their monasteries gawking at them as they carry on with their prayers and daily rituals. Catering to tourists has led to the availability of a much more diverse cuisine, which in turn must be supported by increasing imports of various foods (mostly processed) and drinks from farther away. Hotels are being built with modern conveniences such as hot showers and flush toilets (instead of the traditional waterless compost-pit toilets), but without the attendant improvements in the infrastructure for water supply and sewage management.
The piles of mostly plastic trash that dot the hillsides and ravines around Spiti’s settlements are perhaps the most conspicuous and ubiquitous sign of urbanization having reached this remote valley. There are no cultural traditions or ecological mechanisms among the native social-ecological systems to deal with this growing pile of non-biodegradable modern waste, even if your hotel provides a falsely reassuring bin in your room. The only “system” is for people in the settlements to collect their household garbage and dump it on the outskirts of the town in unruly piles. So what if the growing pile of garbage with its pack of feral dogs is often the first thing to greet visitors entering a town? Meanwhile, the entire countryside experiences a steady drizzle of plastic garbage: polythene bags (although these have been banned, with most shops offering cloth bags instead), plastic water and soft-drink bottles, packaging ranging from single-use shampoo sachets and candy wrappers to instant noodle soup and bags of chips, children’s toys and shoes, and broken down lost cellphones. Bits of plastic fall steadily across the mountains and valleys, dropped along roadsides by slippery or wilful hands from the windows of buses and tourist cars, from the backpacks of trekkers along trails, and mountain-biking tourists, and from the native homes, picked up, dashed against rocks, and scattered by the winds to form a perhaps more dilute terrestrial form of the infamous Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Eventually, the plastic ends up either ground into the dust, or washed into the river.
Yet it is perhaps not too late to start tackling this problem before it really gets out of hand. In their latest effort to care for the environment of these mountains, Mishra’s team has now begun work to address the problem of managing garbage. Intense meetings held this summer—with men, women, and youth groups—have seen animated discussions about the problem with various solutions being proposed and considered. Some of the village committees have pledged to start taking specific actions, such as providing bins as collection points, identifying potential landfill-sites away from the villages, and organizing regular pick up and dumping of garbage. Kibber’s people have even drafted a garbage management plan to address the growing problem. Given the still high cost of transportation, recycling of plastics is not really an option at the moment, so the best short-term option may be to segregate the biodegradable from non-degradable stuff, saving the former for compost and burning the latter. Organic waste is already part of the natural village agricultural cycle, with traditional composting practices that include the use of human waste from the open-pit water-free toilets, or Chaksas, as fertilizers. It makes sense to strengthen these indigenous solutions and adapt them to the modern waste-flows rather than importing more water-intensive sewage treatment options. Better to educate the tourists about the benefits of water-free Chaksas than install expensive plumbing and flush toilets for their benefit in the new hotels. Glass, and most plastic bottles are also routinely reused many times over. As for the rest of the plastic garbage, burning it may be the best option for now. Perhaps it is time to talk to the Swedes about installing small-scale versions of their garbage-incinerating power plants which can solve two problems at once.
The Himachal Pradesh state government has just announced a ban on use of polythene for packaging non-essential eatables, i.e., junk food. This should go a long way towards both solving the garbage problem and improving public health, although one wonders how they will implement such a radical ban. Will industry and commerce rise to the occasion and invent biodegradable substitutes to package the chips and candies, cookies and chewing gum, ice-cream and instant noodles they like to sell to the local populace? And will they also start packaging the more essential eatables, the grocery staples like milk and oils, dal and rice, in similar biodegradable packets? After all, it is hard to deny the convenience of being able to buy all these products in neat, clean packages, especially in the small single use quantities preferred by most of India’s poorer populations. Hopefully technology will come up with better materials that offer the same convenience without adding unsustainable burdens on the environment. Reducing the amount of garbage should also help control the feral dog problem, which is also a major threat to biodiversity conservation in the area. The big immediate challenge, of course, is the same one facing garbage managers in every city: how to get individuals to cooperate and actually do their part, in segregating their garbage at the source, composting on their own, and reducing the use of packaged processed stuff in the first place. And the much larger issue of all the plastic packaging used for everything these days.
Nevertheless, given their traditions of cooperation and collective action to manage their commons, the native Spitians may yet provide us with models for managing this most widespread of urban problems. And the dogs may yet yield the night to the native Red Foxes even in the larger towns.
Meanwhile, sitting in the German Bakery in Spiti’s district headquarter of Kaza, under the mural of Che Guevara on the wall, sipping an espresso over a slice of warm apple pie, perhaps catching up on your Facebook timeline on your mobile phone, while House Sparrows bicker over crumbs from your table and stray dogs roam the alleys outside, you might be forgiven for thinking, momentarily, that you are in Any City, Anywhere, rather than at some remote rural frontier at the edge of the roof of the world.
When it comes to addressing wicked challenges, designers, policy makers and scientists alike should challenge themselves to work more synthetically to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, more generalizable insights. Staging small scale, safe-to-fail interventions as “experiments” is a way forward.
Many of us are drawn to the process and potential of transdisciplinary projects through a desire to deepen the scope and impact of our work. Though landscape architects and planning practitioners claim to be capable of achieving socio-ecological impact, their proposals and built projects too often lack necessary grounding in solid science. Conversely, many modes of academic research can lack immediate and relevant applications in the world. How this divide between design and science might be more effectively bridged, is a topic of frequent debate and discussion within praxis as well as here at TNOC. (Recent notable efforts from Philip Silva, Ana Faggi, Timon McPhearson, and Jason King, among others; and was the key organizing principal of the recent TNOC Summit.)
Adapted by Daniel Phillips from Cedric Price’s “City as an Egg” diagrammatic analogy
A recent fiery piece by Billy Flemming in Places Journal entitled Design and the Green New Deal, seems to have similarly struck a deep and resonant chord within the discourse of landscape architecture, arguing that the discipline’s very reason for being warrants a timely re-examination. Indeed, it serves as a call to action for all of us who hope to make meaningful change in the world through our research and practice: To think bigger, get political, and offer our skill sets and capacities to the pressing issues of the day. Polemics like these form a gathering recognition that many responses to issues like climate change, environmental justice, and urban resilience will inevitably find expression in spatial projects throughout the landscapes we occupy. Yet these challenges are all arguably “wicked” in nature. So how should they be approached?
The notion of “wicked challenges”, often attributed to the work of Rittel and Webber (1973) forms an important heuristic device around which many contemporary transdisciplinary projects have orbited. Wicked challenges are framed in distinction to challenges that could be labeled “simple” and “complex”. Whereas simple challenges (e.g., filling a cavity in a tooth) are those in which both the question and answer are well understood, complex challenges (e.g., landing a man on mars) are those which the question is understood but not the answer is not yet known. Wicked problems (e.g., Brexit, climate change, addressing the urban stream syndrome) are defined by uncertainties on both sides, and therefore rely heavily on the ways in which the challenge is effectively framed. Wicked challenges are further characterized by the fact that they have “no stopping rule”—that is, every proximate answer leads to more questions—and that every wicked problem can be said to be a “symptom of another problem” (Farrell and Hooker 2013, 684–687).
Addressing wicked problems therefore requires us to develop new tools and frameworks for approaching them. The Design-in-Science (DIS) framework, originally formulated by Joan Iverson Nassauer and Paul Opdam offers such a tool. Referenced in a landmark paper from 2008, this approach calls for increased transdisciplinary research between landscape ecology and landscape planning. Their goal, arguably, was to find ways to reconcile the agency of design with the authority of science to better address wicked challenges that occur within human dominated ecosystems. The DIS framework has since become a prominent node in a constellation of similar approaches referred to variously as “participatory landscape planning” (Hulse, Branscomb, and Payne 2004; Johnson and Campbell 1999; Johnson et al. 2002), “designed experiments”(Felson and Pickett 2005), “research-through-designing” (Lenzholzer, Duchhart, and Koh 2013), “ecology with design”(M. J. Grose 2014; M. Grose 2017), “Design-Related-Research” (Nijhuis and Bobbink 2012), and Transdisciplinary Action Research (Thering and Chanse 2011; Stokols 2006). Importantly, the framework defines and employs Design (as both a noun and a verb) as an operative “boundary concept”, and proposes an “iterative loop” of evidence-based (and evidence-generating) design inquiry.
Design as a link between science and landscape change. From Nassauer and Opdam (2008)
The DIS framework as a tool for addressing “wicked” problems
To understand the value of DIS as a useful tool for confronting wicked challenges, it may also be instructive to explore the reflexive modes of inquiry it implies. First, it should be recognized that Science(in a post-positivist era), and Design(understood as a mode of thinking and action rather than merely a professional practice) are not as far apart in their core cognitive processes as they used to be (Farrell and Hooker 2013; Innes and Booher 2016). Luckily, we are moving gradually away from the hubris that sustained us in the past—namely that designers “solve” problems, and that scientists discover immutable “truths”.
It was Karl Popper who famously observed that the foundations of science are not anchored to a stable bedrock of proven truth, but rather, driven just deep enough into the swamp of possibility to continue one’s research (Popper 1959). In confronting our collective fallacies as practitioners and scientists, we are increasingly finding middle ground and focusing on the processes that we might share—the ability to frame and ask questions, totask the void in pursuit of new insights, and advise (or take) action in line with the insights we discover. To do this, each are increasingly reliant on the mixing of Inductive, Deductive, and Abductive modes of reasoning to arrive at plausible assumptions about the nature of the problem at hand (Deming and Swaffield 2010).
A wicked problem: The “urban stream syndrome” from Walsh et al (2005)
This interplay is especially important when it becomes necessary, on the one hand, to tease out from a wicked problem a series of more tame ones, and on the other hand, to recognize that in every tame one, a series of those which are wicked always exist. As stated by Nassauer and Opdam (2008), “Undoubtedly effective transdisciplinarity will require that new norms, not solely dependent on disciplinary conventions, evolve for credible research” (634). Situating Designin Science, therefore isn’t marked by an erosion of boundaries between these disciplines, but rather by an attempt to seek moments of permeability and alignment across boundaries that are mutually beneficial and actionable.
Strategic alignments between design, science, and policy can minimize the tradeoffs that occur regarding the credibility, saliency and legitimacy of new knowledge. To further illustrate the interplay of design and science, I will sketch out a series of brief speculative scenarios, with attempts to highlight the various epistemologies involved.
In the first scenario, we might imagine an alignment of science and policy, but without design. Policy makers with a high degree of agency and influence in the regime-level decision making processes, solicit scientific research to gain deeper knowledge about a specific phenomenon that they are trying to better understand or plan for. The question at hand might be related to where the next wastewater treatment plant should be built. The scientist, or team of scientists in question, deploy(s) a rigorous purpose-built methodology resulting in new data that is not only highly credible, but highly salient (as it was driven by a specific purpose or policy implication at its outset). Yet without the critical role of design, and design thinking, the team might never attempt to divergently reframe or challenge the nature of their task itself. What if the goal shouldn’t be just about defining service areas for existing technologies? What other (unexpected) opportunities might we be overlooking? What about the urban streams themselves? By excluding design from the equation, the science/policy team never pose or ponder relevant “what if” scenarios that could be attenuated to local phenomena or needs. Further, if the process of collecting data is not attentive to normative dimensions of everyday landscapes and people within them, the resulting prescriptions might risk not being adopted, or worse—actively resisted within the context they are being proposed. Here, questions of legitimacyare paramount—defined as the degree to which various public stakeholders perceive the process to be “unbiased and meeting standards of political and procedural fairness” (Cash et al. 2002, 5). Despite being both credibleand salient, eschewing participatory modes of design engagement may stifle this team’s potential to affect broader landscape change.
In a second scenario, there exists a strategic alignment of design and policy, but without science. Designers, informed by a particular program or brief, propose a series of speculative responses, perhaps even drawing upon general ecological principles as an evidence base in science. The process is transparent, participatory, and imaginative. Policy makers place trust in the creative process and the capacity to think beyond rigid conceptual frames to imagine and propose a series of ‘what if’ scenarios that are both salient and legitimate. This could be further exemplified in urban planning and design practice when a beautifully conceived solution is installed in the “right” place but fails to build sufficient capacity and rigorous methodologies to monitor the quantitative and qualitative impacts of their efforts over time. The project becomes easily dismissed as “greenwashing”, where designs or landscape changes appear ecological without actually functioning ecologically. Further, they fail to generate any new knowledge that can be used or replicated elsewhere.
In a third scenario, we have a strategic alignment of science and design, but without policy. This team works together within a protected niche—fuelled by independent funding from public grants and private institutions and have internal capacity to control the parameters and goals of their research and inquiry. Seasoned interdisciplinary teams use lab and field-based tests to frame, test and refine research and eventually build a compelling public value proposition that is both legitimate and credible. But they fail to translate these insights into relevant and feasible retrofits to the existing status quo. In this scenario the proposed responses may never move beyond the stage of a brilliant hypothetical that never actually comes to pass. Or alternatively, they propose localized responses that can only survive with constant inputs from the initiators themselves, and thus fail to effectively upscale in a way that is sustainable.
Finally, we have a strategic alignment of design, science, and policy at a time when a relevant window of opportunity opens up in an existing regime. Regime level actors are hungry for new ideas, and front line innovators have built the transdisciplinary capacity necessary to propose viable alternative responses. Scientists consult the evidence base to form valid and plausible assumption about the basic viability of responses. Designers work in collaboration with scientists to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, generalizable insights. These insights fuel the upscaling of more widely distributed intervention which are informed by collaborations with various local civil society organizations and stakeholders on the ground.
The author and collaborators Priyanka Jamwal and Shubha Ramachandran setting up a small scale wastewater demonstration project in Bangalore, India.
A key takeaway is this: When it comes to addressing wicked challenges, designers, policy makers and scientists alike should challenge themselves to work more synthetically to frame built works as a mode of hypothesis testing that feeds larger, more generalizable insights. Staging small scale, safe-to-fail interventions creates insights for design iteration and also allows critical engagement stakeholders at early stages in the development projects. Over time, a compelling evidence base on which to base the form and function of new landscape patterns can emerge. Small interventions, once merely speculative or provisional, becomes more widely replicated and accepted. Some may dismiss as incrementalism, when huge leaps forward are sorely needed.
Urban rapid prototyping via socio-ecological interventions in Rome, Italy, The Commonstudio
Transdisciplinarity is especially relevant to contemporary discussions surrounding the science and practice of green infrastructure in cities. Embedded within the semantics of framing “problems” is an implicit suggestion that cures to complex urban illsmight exist. Yet, one of the very conditions that defines the city as an ecosystem are the many irreversible histories it contains. The re-framing of socio-ecological challenges and their many reverberations as wicked problems allows us to collectively confront, and perhaps even accepttheir ultimate insolubility. For example, there will always be a preponderance of pavement in human dominated ecosystems. Restoring the function of these constructed ecologies to pre-urban, or pre-human states of health will always prove to be a logical impossibility. Even in a future world without us, the biophysical constructions we call cities will continue to impact the patterns and processes of the landscapes and watersheds in which they have emerged.
As designers, scientists, and policy makers, we cannothope to ever truly “solve” these wicked problems, but through our combined efforts, we cantry to better understand their nature.
And that’s ok! If we refuse to resign ourselves to cynicism, we can allow this realization to become the fuel that drives the process of relentless incrementalism and continued experimentation. With few exceptions that’s how the process of changing the world has always occurred—aggregated efforts which compound across vast scales of space and time. My hope is that projects, methods and partnership models such as the ones to be explored more thoroughly by many of the contributors of TNOC, will continue to demonstrate the power and potential for new modes of cross-cultural, cross-disciplinary engagement which bridge the “design-science divide” and point to new horizons of action—even if those actions are initially tiny in their scope. They make these challenges we face a bit less wicked, and maybe that’s enough.
Who doesn’t love a list? The 100 richest people in the world. The best guitar players of all time. The most beautiful beaches in the world. The world’s “greenest cities”. The USA’s most livable cities. The most resilient cities. For people interested in the particular theme of the list, the lists are fascinating. We can compare them against our own ideas and experience. We can debate and complain about the order. (I personally agree with Jimi Hendrix at number 1 in Rolling Stone’s list of guitar players, but think that Ry Cooder at #31 is scandalously low.)
Some lists are based on simple and easily understood data, such as the Forbes list of 2012’s richest people in the world. Let’s accept as correct Carlos Slim Helú’s valoration ($69 billion) and agree he has the most scratch. Among the swells, Mukesh Ambani, whose personal skyscraper towers above Mumbai and has a green wall, is a laggard and in the (relative) poorhouse at #20. A list of the most beautiful beaches, like the guitar players, is much more subjective, but nevertheless is grounded in a set of attributes, such as the beauty of the physical setting, the soft whiteness of the sand, and so on.
Lists are about values
Is this city greener …(el Paseo de Martí in Havana, Cuba) Photo by David Maddox
The critical thing to keep in the front of one’s mind when pondering all such lists is that they are based on values, which are in turn based on concepts of what is important. That is, lists are grounded in a set of underlying indicators: elements or attributes that the creators of the list believe to be most central to the idea of “best of” in their particular category. If the creators left the attribute you think is most important out of their set of attributes for valoration, well, it was because they didn’t think it was important enough.
But if it is important it should be included in the foundational data that informs the list. And let’s be clear: if an attribute is left out of a valuation, then it affects the overall rankings and our overall impression of what’s “important”.
…than this one? How would you know? View from Central Park toward Columbus Circle, New York City. Photo by David Maddox.
Let us not think of “values” as simply being opinions. For any personal interest of ours, each of us has a set of attributes – a mental conceptual model, if you will – that we believe are key to qualities that are central to the idea of “better”. It is the same with lists, whether they are subjective (e.g., most over-rated footballer) or objective (i.e., something that is data- driven).
In data-driven best-of lists the values of the creators are expressed, or revealed, in:
(1) The attributes that are included in the valuation, and;
(2) The relative weights that are given to each attribute.
Note that the relative weighting of different attributes is also critical. Equal weighting is not an absence of weights, and essentially “values” all attributes equally. This is an expression of values.
Comparative lists of the attributes of cities
What is great about data-driven lists is that they facilitate apples vs. apples comparisons.
(1) We can compare a single city’s performance through time: is it improving based on the attributes used?
(2) We can compare among cities on standard scales, across time or across regions.
(3) If we can understand what is going on in the data we have chosen to use, then we might understand how our values are being expressed in terms of city performance and, importantly, in which specific areas we are succeeding or failing.
Certainly we can’t include all attributes into such rankings – that is the role of more detailed question-driven science and monitoring (say, Singapore’s city biodiversity index). But knowing what is in them is critical to understanding what to think of the final list and how to use it for good. How is it, for example, that New York City often scores low on “green” when in fact we use less water per capita, less energy per capita, use more public transportation, and have a tree canopy of 24% of total area? It is because of the values expressed in the construction of the list. Right, it’s complicated.
What can be great about lists is when they inspire (or sometimes embarrass) us into greater attention to both appropriate measurements and desired outcomes. At the heart of this idea is the importance of information in decision-making. My own city, New York, has generally been good at this – taking a information-rich and data-driven approach to planning.
Under the hood of “Most Green” and “Most Livable” cities lists
There are quite a few “most green city” and “most livable city” lists. And let me say right now, and with emphasis, that I think they are generally interesting and can be useful. But it is also important to know what values lay inside them. So, what are the values inherent in such lists? What “green” attributes drive the ranking of cities?
I can tell you that it is generally not biodiversity or the performance of ecosystem services. Even green space (typically expressed as the total area of park land or open space) is given a relatively modest role. Although the methods are typically only seen through a veil, the principle drivers in most of these lists are attributes involving energy, transportation, and public transportation. Water use is rarely included. Air quality, which is really an outcome related to energy and transportation, but which is also driven significantly by green infrastructure (e.g., parks and street trees), is occasionally included.
Take for instance a popular and impressive valoration by Siemens, the Green City Index. One element that is impressive is its attempt to include multiple cities across most regions of the world. Thus, we can ask about sustainable cities in Africa, or Asia, not just Europe and the U.S. (This is important because there are generally more data available in the U.S. and Europe, so I applaud Siemens for seeking out the harder to find data in other places.)
The exact methods are not made public, but the list below shows the attributes they include.
CO2 emissions – total emissions
Energy – use of renewables
Land Use – including the % of the “green space” as part of the total city area
Buildings – energy efficient buildings
Transportation – public transportation networks
Water – water use per capita
Waste – existence of robust waste policies
Air – the existence of air quality policies and targets
Environmental Governance – existence of environmental planning
Note that they don’t include biodiversity or any meaningful measures of natural areas. The nine categories appear to be weighted equally. Parks and green space are placed in the category Land Use. This is the usual state of affairs. Just a few examples of recent lists of “Green” or “Sustainble” or “Livable” include those from PopSci, Mother Nature Network, Grist, and Country Home, and Scientific American has done a review of such lists in various categories. Attributes involving biodiversity, natural areas, protection of wetlands, street trees, or even water use are rare.
This needs to change.
A conceptual model for a green city that includes green infrastructure as a key driver. Graphic by David Maddox.
Making Most Green Cities lists better and inspiring more data collection
A mountain of research demonstrates that biodiversity, nature, and ecosystems in cities contribute to a wide array of desirable outcomes, from conservation and ecosystem services to sustainability, human wellbeing, community cohesion, and resilience to shocks. Indeed, in many cases they are drivers of key urban outputs such as air quality, storm water management, population health, housing prices, and quality of life.
In turn, these core components of “green” cities are the ones that also play a key role in determining livable and resilient cities. Browse other essays in this blog to see examples and links. TNOC contributor Marina Alberti wrote a textbook full of examples. Tim Beatley (another TNOC contributor) and colleagues make a similar argument in their new book “The Green Cities of Europe”.
So, here are some recommendations for attributes to include in future valorations of green cities – what we might call a fully specified conceptual model of the “Green Elements” of a green city.
(1) Green: High amounts of parkland, green, or blue space relative to the size of the municipal area. (This is measure typically included in green city lists today).
(2) Ecosystem services: Significant examples of investment in green infrastructure, including green roofs, bioswales, rain gardens, permeable surfaces, etc.
(3) Biodiversity: Demonstrated biodiversity, and institutional commitment to locally native species.
(4) Justice: Equitable distribution of this green or blue space among neighborhoods within the city (or related connectivity among parcels).
(5) Natural areas: High amounts of “natural areas” as a part of the green and blue space (i.e., not simply parks that are for recreation).
(6) Connectivity and Placement: Green areas that connected and placed purposefully relative to known threats (e.g., wetlands in the path of storm surge).
(7) Wildlands: Parkland, including significant natural or wilderness areas, within one-day’s journey from the city center.
A conceptual model for the elements of critical green in a “green” city. Graphic by David Maddox.
The specifics of each are of course arguable, as are their relative weighting. Also arguable is the weighting of these attributes relative to the commonly included transportation, energy, and so on. What is not arguable is their importance to urban sustainability, resilience, and human wellbeing – to the “Greenness” of a city. In some form, they belong in the methodology of any organization creating “Most Green City” lists.
And, more importantly, they belong in the conversations of the people planning and managing the cities.
So what? It’s just a list
Including such attributes among the values inherent in the methodology will change the ranking of cities – as any new metric would. But since nature, ecosystems and biodiversity are critical to “greenness” and sustainability, leaving them out, as the rankings now largely do, creates incorrect or misleading lists, which impedes both planning for improvements in these areas, but also corrupts pubic perception about what makes up a “green”, “sustainable”, and “resilient” city.
Greener cities are not only made up of LEED buildings, transit systems, energy sources, density planning and building codes. Green cities are also those that value and implement strategies for some of the key drivers of healthy and livable cities. This is more than just undifferentiated “green space”. It is coherent and connected planning for and evidence of parks, street vegetation, natural areas, and various provisions for ecosystem services. And, support for and interest in public engagement in the creation of an equitable experience in their benefits – that is, the creation of a real green ethos embedded deep in the philosophy of the city.
Yes, lists are silly diversions. Except that rankings are important because they both reflect and perpetuate our basic values about cities and what they are made of.
Elevate biodiversity, ecosystem services, and nature in cities to the levels of value they deserve.
For our part, urbanists should strive to create a model definition of a “green city”—such as fleshed out versions of the sketches shown above—that properly indicate and weight the drivers of “green”. That is, we should state is explicit terms our values about what comprises a “green city”—or a “livable” one for that matter. Then we could truly take stock of cities and their greenness, based on a metric that contained values we believe in.
This article is a follow up on the worldview on urban nature that illustrated the fragmentation of urban natural landscapes. The aim of this article is to take the discourse further by assessing possible approaches for appropriate mixes of built up form and nature that can be integrated through reconfiguring urban landscapes. The proposed approaches for a mosaic of urban form are not intended to provide detail of urban form but an overview of issues necessary for configuring urban landscapes that have high biodiversity.
With examples from several cities across East and West Africa, it is recognized that there is no framework for analysis and planning to integrate natural resource management in sustainable urban development (Lwasa, 2014). Contemporary planning frameworks continue to treat ecological zones that are separated from other land uses. Some ecological zones like wetlands have only recently been recognized and conserved for their ecological services and economic benefits. Thus, urban ecological zones in cities of Kampala, Nairobi, Ibadan, Addis Ababa, Dar es Salaam have been conserved through ad hoc interventions by individuals, organizations and municipalities often driven through landscaping for ‘beautification’ or legally binding requirements of RMSAR convention (Shaheen et al., 2010). Experience shows multi-level practices involving multiple actors from community to city-scales. Yet cities are now increasingly realizing the need for enhancing ecosystem services from within to reduce on ecological footprints in hinterlands (Lwasa et al., 2013). This is due to the shear increase in population and degradation of the ecosystem services coupled with heightened drive for local ecosystem services enhancement.
Fragmented landscapes
In my last contribution which talked about the worldview of urban nature, the importance of rethinking ecology of cities in ‘urbanscapes’ was highlighted due to the contemporary fragmentation of urban nature, in which development disrupts and compartmentalizes nature, rather than being embedded within it as an integrated matrix. was highlighted. In many developing cities, the trajectory for urban development is likely to continue with the process of fragmentation and indeed this will be a feature of urban development. The reason for this continued fragmentation is that most urban areas are founded on earlier urban development principles and structures, among which is the separation of ‘incompatible’ land uses (Habitat, 2009).
Though this principle has been applied largely to ‘urban uses’ like industry, residential and commercial zones, it continues to permeate most urban developments and extensions into the city-regions. Examples are extensive and usually massive clearance for new housing projects; infrastructure installations and industrial parks that often replace natural patches with landscape-designed patches. This transforms urban nature, in turn affecting biodiversity and ecosystem services. Though urban planning literature talks about ‘planning with nature’, this is often followed because of the difficulty it presents in design and construction. For example the influence of terrain in urban design for hilly and mountainous regions such as Kigali in Rwanda has opportunities for urban nature but economic and construction feasibility hinders such urban design. The resultant imprint of urban development is fragmentation of built up form and nature.
Contemporary planning of cities is slowly embracing the ‘planning with nature’ principle (Zhou et al., 2010) which is motivated by recent discourse on global environmental changes. This implies that urban planning should ‘weave’ built up imprints on to natural landscape where new developments would be developed with renewal of natural landscapes for already urbanized regions. This article attest to the process of conceptualizing, planning and realization of nature-built-form weaved landscapes. The article uses this framework drawing from examples across several African cities that have demonstrated both deliberate and inadvertent policies for weaving nature with urban development. The major aim is to map ways in which cities can integrate nature for biodiversity to enhance ecosystem services into future urban development.
Demise of nature in cities
Historically, the imprint of cities in Africa has been influenced by economic, geopolitical and strategic reasons for which urban land uses and activities were configured (Mukwaya et al., 2010). Land use separation for efficiency or risk minimization meant that some areas, such as industrial, residential and commercial zones, were occurred as extended built up landscapes with small patches of green areas where permissible or otherwise desirable (MCHG, 2011). These three urban land uses also place the highest demand on urban land. Factors including density, lifestyle, and social class have coupled to influence the destruction or conservation of nature in urban areas. Different standards on density were applied to correspond to different social groups.
On the other hand large scale, often centralized infrastructure created built up patches that sometimes were isolated from the densely populated areas such as sewage treatment plants but which over time. These however have been annexed through sprawl overtime (Adelekan, 2012; Vermeiren et al., 2012). The dynamic processes of construction and extension have long led to the destruction of nature in many cities. Cities including Ibadan, Kampala, Dar es Salaam include the remains of previous natural landscapes that have been reduced by the high density urban cores to form extended built up mosaics. While urban lifestyle, largely defined as living in modern housing, leisure, mobility and circulation, has influenced the behavior of urban dwellers, that in turn influences how urban actors value biodiversity and ecosystems.
Thus, paved courtyards and driveways have replaced natural landscapes and have cumulatively created extended hard surfacesimpervious surfaces with minimal natural patches. Differences exist between historical areas of the city for some social groups as compared to other social groups (Miraftab, 2009; Owens, 2010). For example in Ibadan and Kampala, historical downtown areas for commercial and industrial occur as extended built up form. On the other hand high social class areas in both towns containhave larger green patches compared lower social group areas of high densities with minimal green patches. Over time these differentiated landscapes in the cities have influenced biodiversity, with some having fauna that are typically found in nature parks and or exitu conservancies.
Kololo suburb turned civil area in Kampala. Photo: Shuaib Lwasa
The resurgence of natural landscapes in cities
The need for biodiversity enhancement in cities notwithstanding, social systems akin to mid-19th century planning for ‘country homes’ or summer gardens have now started to penetrate new urban developments in Africa. Though this is not entirely new, the dimension this process is taking differs from the ‘garden city’ concept to include natural areas with multiple uses. It is also arguable to attribute this resurgence to urban planning or response to dynamic urban dwellers changing lifestyles. But the key feature of the resurgence is what in this article is referred to as a weave of nature and built up form.
In Nairobi, for example, the Karura Forest is contained by predominantly built up areas but has rich biodiversity of tree species, several fauna species of monkeys and is partly used for leisure and recreation. Although it may have been conserved through efforts of a single environmentalist with support of the Green Belt Movement that she founded, the forest stands as an example of new forms of urban development that can have ecosystem service enhancement and co-benefits. In respect to co-benefits, one cannot miss the high-class luxurious hotels close to the park that take advantage of the rich biodiversity for nature walks as well as leisure sports.
In Ibadan, the extended forest and botanical gardens of University of Ibadan are home to a range of flora and fauna species yet the University is surrounded by dense residential and mixed-use developments. Also in Ibadan, the army cantonment is characterized by extensive patches of green areas, some of which are used for agriculture, while a large part still has natural habitat. Accomplished deliberately or inadvertently, the processes behind the conservation of these natural areas in these cities have weaved nature with built up form. This illustration is important for developing cities as well future cities.
The motivation for weaving also lies in the fact that many of these cities including Nairobi, Addis Ababa, Dar es Salaam, Kampala and Ibadan sit on or are surrounded by highly productive land. In some cities the rsurgence has also been associated with the need for enhancement of ecosystem services that may include conservation of water towers, as the case of Nairobi Ngong region, or conservation of wetlands as the case of Kampala for treatment of sewage and flood attenuation. Directly the conservation does not only weave nature with built up form but it also conserves biodiversity. In newly developing urban areas within city regions, there is increasing conservation of natural areas some of which are designed with corridors that allow fauna to periodically migrate (Fields, 2009; Mapes and Wolch, 2011).
Ibadan City mosaic. Credit: Shuaib Lwasa
Kampala City mosaic. Credit: Shuaib Lwasa
Nature on residential plots. Photo: Shuaib Lwasa
Navigating a dynamic urban landscape
Changing or controlling urban lifestyles, livelihoods, value systems and densities in cities will be some of the key limiting factors for weaving nature with built up form. These factors are behavioral in nature and although urban planning has long been used to influence behavior, such an undertaking is a challenge. The reconceptualization of urban densities, historically linked to social class segregation is even a more challenging issue given the recent call for compact cities, mixed uses and green belt urban models for sustainable cities (Bulkeley and Betsill, 2005; Jenks et al., 2000). However there is a promise in rethinking densities and spatial configuration. Densities play a significant role and can enhance strategies for promotion of biodiversity. High densities have been characterized by continuous built up form for efficiency but adequate attention is yet to be given to mixed density buildings and patchy developments that reduce on the contiguity of extended built up form. This would require the valuation of ecosystem services for biodiversity conservation through natural patches mixed with built up form. If this strategy is implemented, it will have costs associated with transportation and services infrastructure whose agglomeration efficiency can be reduced since the strategy of mixed densities can increased distances and area of coverage of such infrastructure. The role of valuation of biodiversity and nature areas is critical in changing urban densities.
Urban lifestyles differ by social class but the threads of such lifestyles involve circulation, mobility and leisure (Kenworthy, 2006; Næss, 2012; Newman and Kenworthy, 1996; UN-Habitat, 2012). This influences what modes of transport are used and choices regarding residential location. Thus number of trips, vehicle miles traveled and costs associated with mobility between work and home can be planned for minimization. On the other hand transportation systems and corridors have been used to influence the behavior associated with mobility. The systems of lifestyles and land use configuration have inherent resource consumption patterns. When integrated with changes in densities and strategies that increase green patchiness, the costs associated with this lifestyle may increase. Valuation of the ecosystem services related to mixed natural and built up form will be critical in enhancing biodiversity. There are some examples of urban areas that are using Transit-Oriented Development and mixed densities resulting into promotion of biodiversity (Busck et al., 2006). In respect to sewage treatment infrastructure, new models of service provision include decentralized systems, which rely on local ecosystem services as compared to centralized systems. This implies that for urban planning to play a role in biodiversity conservation, the valuation will have to be integrated in the planning process. For example in Kampala, decentralization of sewage treatment installations has taken into consideration the conservation of wetlands spread across the city. Such valuation will also require understanding tradeoffs between biodiversity and social economic benefits. Understanding and implementing tradeoffs can play a role on influencing the change in urban lifestyles and value systems for urban nature.
Community-scale interventions that need to go into planning and design are critical to realize the proper mix of built up form and nature. Several studies across cities in Africa have shown that at micro-scale, individuals are willing and can invest in keeping green patches on their plots (Adekola and Mitchell, 2011). This can be for ornamental, leisure, herbal medicinal or even livelihood purposes. In all these instances, biodiversity can have a place on core urban areas and along the urban-rural gradient. In the Kampala city region, community intervention has contributed to the conservation of a relatively small patch of forestry at Zikka with natural forest cover much to the dislike of the often aggressive actors in the urban land market. Valuation in this case for the ecosystem differs from valuation from the land market perspective. Planning in this case needs to embrace urban ecological approach and building on the existing good practices of community-level initiatives is critical for a proper mix of built up form and nature in cities. In Kigali, Rwanda the enforcement of environmental sustainability in the city through protection of wetlands has maintained the wetland lining with enhanced biodiversity. While in Ibadan the Bodija residential area is characterized by green patches. The motivation for the enforcement is the protection of ecosystem service of water provision that has had add-ons of biodiversity conservation in the cities. This is coupled with a deliberate beautification of the hills in these cities that can be a good practice which is adaptable and scalable in other cities.
Conclusion
The character of city growth in Africa will continue to fragment urban nature due to the shear numbers of people that will be living in cities. Densities will increase and continuous urban form extend into city-regions degrading ecosystems in immediate hinterlands. It is also now increasingly recognized that cities are rich in biodiversity although the ecosystems are under threat from expansion of built up form. Cities are now seen as potential areas for conservation of biodiversity. Weaving nature with built up form as cities grow and expand in this century will require reconfiguration of built up form, valuation of ecosystem services and conservation of the existing natural resources on which cities sit.
This article does not delve into the details of urban biodiversity but gives an overview of approaches to appropriate mix of uses. This is context specific since cities have different landscape ecologies. With other ecological systems in rural environments under threat due to both expanding cities and competition with food, biofuels production, cities can play a role in conservation as illustrated by the several cases presented in this article. The concerted effort by conservationists, planners and advocates has to be appreciated. Valuation of the ecosystem services, mainstreaming into planning and support and scaling up community-level conservation practices are critical in weaving nature into built up form.
With possibly many cities in Africa yet to be built, it is important that the next generation of urban development practitioners take into account the importance of a nature-built up form mix.
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As the world is fighting against climate change, many Chinese cities are now trying to transition towards a low-carbon development pathway. Beijing, the capital city of China, promised to peak its carbon emissions by 2020, an ambitious target that inspires all of its citizens. And the city has actually made progress on this.
Beijing is determined to build a World City, which should be inclusive. We can’t drive all the migrants and so-called “low-end” industries out of urban districts.
However, we have heard voices from different angles on this progress. A friend told me that since 2014, many retailers in downtown Beijing have closed down their businesses and moved out of urban districts. These retailers consist mostly of migrants, who have typically worked in community and small commodity markets, barbershops, restaurants, beauty salons, public baths, and in other services for years. Their departure is a great loss to Beijing, and brings inconvenience to urban residents in Beijing’s downtown. As China’s capital city, Beijing is welcoming friends from all over the world with the objective of building a World City. “Welcome to Beijing”, the theme song of the 2008 Beijing Olympic Games, intends to convey the open-mindedness and hospitality of the capital city. But now, why are these migrants leaving Beijing?
1. Decentralization to tackle urban problems
Like other megacities, Beijing has experienced common urban problems such as environmental degradation, traffic congestion, resource deficiency, and soaring housing prices, etc., in the process of its development. The Chinese leadership decided to follow a low-carbon pathway, and to solve the capital’s urban problems at a regional level, as a means of addressing these issues. In recent years, policies of coordinated and integrated development in Beijing, and its two surrounding Provinces, Tianjin and Hebei, have been enacted. The objectives of these policies are to maintain the function of the capital city, to move the non-capital functions to the surrounding areas, and to balance the development of Beijing, Tianjin, and Hebei. The main approach to achieving these goals has been to decentralize the excessive population and the so-called “inappropriate and low-end industries” from urban Beijing, moving them to the surrounding regions. According to the “Coordinated Development Plan of Beijing, Tianjin and Hebei” issued by the central government in 2015, Beijing’s total population shouldn’t exceed a 23 million person cap, and by 2020, it is planned to decrease by 15 percent compared to its 2014 level (in 2014, the population reached 21.51 million, and it shows an increasing trend). In this context, Beijing is trying to relocate population and industries out of the urban districts.
The retailers I mentioned above and the “low-end industries” in which they are engaged are regarded as the first people and activities that ought to be moved out of the urban centers. According to statistics, during the first half of 2016, the population of the six urban districts of Beijing decreased by 95,000, the first decrease since the founding of PRC in 1949. The decentralization policy is starting to work. However, are we not losing something with the exodus of these migrants and their businesses? We are. We are losing convenient public services and amenities close to us, and we are losing vitality and diversity of the city.
2. Negative effects of the decentralization of migrants
The loss of migrant populations brings inconvenience to urbanites and influences the livelihoods of the migrants who leave. Because most of the decentralized migrants work in service sectors, their departure causes a serious lack of basic services essential to the locals’ lives. In addition, migrants who leave lose their jobs, and their family members are forced to move from their familiar surroundings (e.g., the kids need to go to other schools).
In the community where I live in northwest Beijing, there used to be a daily necessity market that had operated for over 20 years. It occupied an area of 19,000 m2, and had more than 900 shops. This market served the communities within a radius of 5 km, and was beloved by local residents. Regretfully, the market was demolished in 2014. The government said that the marked caused a large flux of people and traffic jams. I am not sure whether tearing down the market was the only solution to tackling congestion in this case, but I am quite sure that our lives became more difficult without the market, and thousands of migrants who had been working in retail needed to find new jobs. According to government officials, by the end of 2014, 43 markets like this had been demolished in Haidian District alone, one of the six urban districts in Beijing.
The Xiyuan Daily Necessity Market right before demolishing (The banner ads in Chinese said: “Good bye Beijing”). Photo: http://j.news.163.com
Loss of migrant communities will also cause an imbalance of urban space and a loss of vitality of the city. As migrants and “low-end” industries move out of the town, local residents turn to amenities that are usually more expensive and located farther away in order to satisfy their daily needs. Living costs subsequently increase, which may result in the movement of elders and the low and medium-income groups, as well. Eventually, rich people will be gathered in the urban areas, while the poor live on the periphery. This will cause social stratification, and an unbalanced population structure in space, which poses a potential threat to social stability. Moreover, as the “low-end” industries move out of town, the industrial structure left downtown tends to be unitary; it loses diversity, and, inevitably, the vitality of urban areas is reduced.
3. The way towards an inclusive Beijing
Beijing is determined to build a World City, which should be inclusive. We can’t drive all the migrants and so-called “low-end” industries out of urban districts, as these people and their work are greatly needed by the urbanites. E. Saarinen proposed the Theory of Organic Decentralization in 1940s, and it was adopted widely all over the world. At the present development stage of Chinese megacities, such as Beijing, I think the main point in implementing this theory is to make our decentralization better coordinated and better planned.
First of all, experts, the general public (including representatives of the migrant population), and officials from different government authorities should meet regularly before making a coordinated plan or final decision on such issues. In Chinese cities, different plans are compiled and supervised by different government institutions, such as land use plans (by the land and resources bureau), transportation plans (by the transportation commission), urban plans (by the urban planning bureau), social economic plan (by the development and reform commission), etc. The problem is, authorities and experts involved in making different plans usually do not communicate effectively with each other. This has caused inconsistencies to arise between various plans, so that the implementation of those plans did not produce optimal results. Like the commodity market under discussion, if transport planning and land use planning had gone hand-in-hand from the beginning, starting 20 years ago, traffic congestion might not occur today. Likewise, if today, different stakeholders can meet together in the decision-making process of decentralization, it will result in a more scientific and coordinated plan for the future.
Secondly, there might be other alternatives to solving urban problems that are perceived to be caused by high density population and “inappropriate” industries, rather than decentralizing the migrants all at once. For instance, in order to mitigate the perceived problems caused by an excessive migrant population and the industries they engage in, the government could strengthen the supervision of retailers and industries, could provide and encourage more transit services, could set up one-way streets, could develop and utilize underground space, and could establish low emission zones.
Take the approach of strengthening government supervision, for example; Cangzhou city makes a good case study. Located 200 km southeast of Beijing, and with a population of 7.44 million, Cangzhou faces urban problems like other Chinese cities, one of which is how to deal with street vendors. Typically, street vendors are migrants coming into urban areas to earn a living. The goods they sell and services they provide are needed by citizens, but street vendors are also blamed for causing dirty, disorderly, and bad environments. By building unified market stalls for street vendors, Cangzhou government can tighten supervision on the migrants. At the same time, this policy actually keeps the migrants’ livelihoods intact, and improves their surrounding environments.
The street vendors in Guangrong Road Cangzhou, China, before the construction of the unified market stalls. Photo: http://cn.chinagate.cn
The street vendors in Guangrong Road Cangzhou, China, after the construction of the unified market stalls. Photo: http://cn.chinagate.cn
Thirdly, the government should synchronize decentralization and resettlement. If the government decides to decentralize the migrants, it should make an all-out effort to help those shifting populations by providing new employment opportunities, services, and facilities in the outskirts of cities and new towns to which the migrants are moving. Hong Kong sets a good example of “planned” decentralization. In order to solve the housing problem of the growing population in urban areas, the government built nine new towns from the 1970s to the 1990s. Before the newcomers moved in, the government introduced industries, public services, and transport facilities into the new towns. This way, people could find new jobs and were more eager to move.
Beijing needs its migrant population; its contribution to the city is critical towards its development as a World City. The government needs to follow coordinated and planned decentralization policies to achieve its social, economic, and environmental objectives. As an ordinary citizen of Beijing, I hope that the rhythm of “welcome to Beijing” rings out loudly under the clear sky.
Thinking of home turf as we start a new phase of the Bangkok-Barcelona journey
Inching westward, the lines of human history blur. The more we walk, the more we see the similarities and differences in the human condition.
My mind always wanders forward. Even as my footsteps ground me in the present, I can’t help but wonder what lies ahead.
We’re still technically in Asia, on the side of the line that divides Turkey between two continents. After a long winter break to rest our bodies, enjoy the warm comfort of family love and plan for the next leg of this journey, we are back to walking in places new to us, inventing the path that connects us to two continents.
Although we have some 4,000-5,000 kilometers before us, we already feel closer to home.
Turkish cities and roads are more European in their design and civility than many of the Asian places we have walked through these last two years. The cafes, restaurants, markets, and malls in the bigger cities frequently have that trendy, hipster-NY feel, that sense of 21st capitalistic development that has become a model globally. It’s really only the food, music, and language overheard in these places that bring us back to where we are—at yet another crossroads of cultures and chronicles.
Walking among the collective
Inching westward, the lines of human history blur. The more we walk, the more we see the similarities and differences in the human condition.
Everywhere we have walked so far; we have witnessed the basic human need of getting on with life, surviving the day-to-day routine to have enough to eat and a place to sleep at night. Many people are doing the work that has to be done to have some level of comfort and, hopefully, a better quality of life than those who preceded them. There is joy, sadness, success, and longing universally rolled out along the 10,500 kilometers we have observed to date.
The differences we sense and see are wrapped up with competing (and frequently undue or excessive) political, religious, and economic sympathies and prejudices.
For example, in suburban Thailand and some parts of Burma, we found ourselves the recipients of Buddhist-related merit-making kindnesses. Strangers rode up to us on their mopeds and handed us bottles of cold water, plastic bags of warm soymilk, slices of watermelon, and the occasional refreshing sugar burst of a soda. We hope their small acts, for which we are always grateful, earn them a closer place to Nirvana.
In Iran, Turkey, Tajikistan, the Pamirs, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, and, to a lesser extent, Bangladesh, Muslim hospitality superseded national ideology. Goodness and compassion came in the form of invitations for tea, roadside picnics with just-picked melons, hot multi-course meals, and rooms to sleep in at night. In these places, where Western headlines warn us of “those people,” we were seen as gifts from God. We started as strangers who randomly stepped into their lives and ended as honored guests and friends.
People in India took us in and gave us refuge in their temples, gas stations, classrooms, highway authority offices, and sometimes their homes. They made us roti and lentil dal. They told us it was their duty to look after us; this resonated as the dharma principle Hindus hold dear. It also reflects the Hindu idea of “seva” and the Sikh pillar of “vand chakko,” both of which translate to the idea of selflessly serving others.
In some areas of Burma and Georgia, we have experienced suspicion and the lingering leftovers of former regimes that were more interested in knowing where we are going than knowing from where we came. In other former Soviet countries, the notion of registration–registering with police, collecting registration slips from hotels, and registering at security checkpoints on province borders–is still part of everyday life.
And, in nearly all sizable cities we have stepped into so far, people, regardless of race or roots, fall into a pattern that creates distance. There is anonymity in the middle of urban chaos that keeps most people isolated or unattached while in constant proximity.
Shifting expectations
It’s this perception of detachment we expect to see more of as we cross borders and ramble through European towns and cities.
We hope we are wrong, but our experience tells us otherwise.
To read more from the Bangkok to Barcelona series, click here.
When we walked a 600-kilometer stretch of the long-distance GR-92 hiking trail as a test-walk before this one, only one couple helped us as we crossed Catalonia. And, it was because there was a significant thunderstorm passing through that forced us to seek shelter on their porch, and the man who found us, a French ex-pat, was himself a walker who had also completed several long-distance treks. He had stood in our shoes and knew what it felt like to be wet, tired and without a good camping spot nearby.
As Europe comes into our line of sight, we have questions we can’t yet answer, the first of which is, “What will Europe offer us that Asia didn’t?”
Yes, we expect to have better roads connecting us to familiar cities, and pretty bike and nature trails where we can hear the birds and enjoy nature. We expect to find familiar food, familiar languages and more publically accessible potable water. Finding a good cup of coffee will be vastly easier, too.
But, when there are no hotels or pensions nearby, will the keepers of Christian-based traditions let us camp in their gardens or sleep in extra rooms like the Buddhist and Sikh temples allowed us to do? Will we be welcomed as guests, gifts worthy of a stranger’s smile and will they try to close our human differences with an invitation to sip tea together? Will Europeans be willing to let us into their homes, and will we be willing to follow them inside or will our own suspicions and prejudices keep us guarded and distant? In this day and age, where bad news grabs all the headlines, will fear follow us into parts of Europe where personal attacks, pickpockets, and robberies are seemingly more common?
And, more to the point of what concerns readers of The Nature of Cities: Will our idea of what makes cities just, accessible and inclusive change as we cross the continental divide? With many parts of Europe feeling the pressure of integrating international refugees and migrants, how will we experience the new wave of conservative-leaning policies that tend to exclude, marginalize, and limit the participation of some portion of society?
The answers will come as we continue to step into the unknown and wonder what lies ahead in familiar places.
All photos courtesy of Bangkok to Barcelona on Foot.
Asia Walking through Asian cities, towns, and villages offered us many opportunities to meet local people. We danced with locals at weddings, accepted dinner invitations, slept in kind families’ guest rooms, and were offered tea more times that we can count.
Europe As we walk westward toward Europe, we keep wondering what lies ahead as we cross continents and enter familiar territory.
In contrast, major Central Valley cities like Fresno and the state capitol Sacramento have fought a long, withering battle against water meters, with half the valley’s population paying no more than a small flat monthly fee for all the water they choose to use at home. For decades, Fresno was the biggest of these peculiar holdouts, stubbornly refusing to even measure its water use, let alone to make residents pay accordingly. Oddly, Clovis, its immediate neighbor and now part of a contiguous Fresno-Clovis Metro Area, has had meters installed for a century — but they don’t price the water aggressively enough to make a huge difference in water use. Fresno’s frontier mentality had people who lived in a semi-desert ecosystem (defined as one receiving between 10-16 inches / 250-500mm of rainfall annually) consuming more water than most American cities: over 300 gallons/1200 liters per person per day!
However, this can only be done once citizens recognize that they must scrutinize the implications of financial and economic policies that favour the real estate, rentier, and financial sectors at the expense of the job-rich pro-poor sectors, including industry and agriculture. For example, the following, but by no means exclusive, government decisions have direct implications on the exposure and vulnerability to natural hazards and potential losses from them:
And it is at this point that I ask myself, why is it that, instead of going against art, we use it as an ally to protest and raise awareness about the impact of climate change?
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